Continuation
by denisepaige
Summary: The Winchester bloodline is continuing. Now Sam, Dean, and Bobby will have to fight for something they never expected - the next generation.
1. Chapter 1

It was the sound a bird made. A small flutter, but Bobby knew that sound wasn't a bird. Birds didn't land inside. He didn't look up from his book; he stopped reading, for sure, but he didn't look up. He needed those extra moments – for composure, for a plan. Hell, there was no plan.

"Hello."

Bobby sighed inwardly, his moment of thinking over. What was he supposed to say? 'Hello' or 'Haven't seen you since you killed a woman I cared about?' or the ol' standby 'Fuck off'? He wanted to say them all, and then kill the thing in front of him. That's how he thought of him- a 'thing'. For most, naming an otherworldly creature a 'thing' would conjure imagines of bad B-movie monsters. For Bobby, 'thing' was the only name he had for the creature in front of him.

"You can still call me Castiel. It's more appropriate than what you're thinking."

Bobby felt his anger rising. A retort stuck in the back of his throat. He had seen how powerful this thing/Castiel was. He was a big believer in the whole 'live to fight another day' scenario.

"There will be no fighting."

This time Bobby had only a sigh, it seemed his even his thoughts weren't off-limits anymore. Goddammit. He peeled his fingers away delicately from the parchment he had been reading. Too often he had made the mistake of handling his texts roughly, only to destroy pages inadvertently. Once his shaking hands were safely away from the parchment, he closed the book. He didn't hurry, and Castiel didn't ask him to. There was no shuffling or outward sighs, this would play out with little emotion. Finally, Bobby looked up. He hadn't seen Castiel since the warehouse battle in the spring, but he remembered those eyes. If you didn't know that Castiel was an angel, or god, or what-the-hell-ever, you would have said those were the eyes of a man who had lost touch with reality. But Bobby knew. All too well, he knew those were the eyes of a man with too much power. A billion souls from purgatory will do that to you.

"What can I do for you?" Bobby asked, careful to keep his voice neutral.

Castiel looked off to the side, and flexed his hands. If this was the old Cas, Bobby would have said it was a sign that Cas was trying to explain something to the humans around him. He didn't know what it meant for this new Castiel. "I need your help."

Bobby couldn't help it, a laugh escaped. "You need my help? You're God Cas. You don't need us anymore."

"That's right, I am God. But I'm not a God like my father was God, my power has limits. And even if it didn't, there is only one of me. Therefore, I need your help."

Bobby stood up from his chair behind the desk. If he was going to say no and incur the wrath of this thing, he wanted to take it like a man. "And you think I'm going to say yes?" He walked around the desk to get closer to the creature he was about to defy. "Did you miss the part where we stopped being on the same side?"

Cas sighed. "My memory is not gone. I remember."

"Then why would you think I'm going to help you?" Bobby was fighting a battle to keep his voice from rising- fighting, and losing.

Cas' brow furrowed. "I am certain that once you hear the request, you will agree."

Bobby spun around to the desk and grabbed the tumbler there. It had held the whiskey he had been nursing all day. He was trying to cut back. This visit made sure those good intentions had gone to hell. He knocked back the last bit in the glass and reached for the bottle. He felt the silver knife he kept in his work boots. He wished to heaven it would kill this son-of-a-bitch in his home, but it wouldn't. In fact, he and the boys hadn't found anything that WOULD kill a God. Apparently, the actual need to kill gods is rarer than one would think. He gave a half laugh to himself.

"Nothing will kill me. It is the point of being God." Castiel delivered the statement with his usual deep monotone. It was rare he had any kind of inflection in his voice; he spoke about life and death in the same tone as he spoke about the weather. It was maddening.

Bobby looked at the wall in front of him, but spoke to the man at his back. "Stay out of my damn head."

"Very well. I just find it makes communication easier. Conversation with humans is very slow. Thoughts tend to move at a faster speed. But if it bothers you, I will certainly stop reading your thoughts."

Bobby sipped at the refilled tumbler. He turned and walked around Castiel towards the kitchen. He needed some space between them. He didn't trust himself not to do something stupid. "Well, let's hear it," Bobby said. "This 'request' you're certain I'll agree to." He turned around to face Cas, now at distance that didn't have Bobby itching to reach out a squeeze his neck. "And, let's be clear, I have no intention of lifting a finger to help you, but it's obvious you have something to say. So say it. I'll say 'no', you can leave, and I can go back to what I was doing." He gestured in the general area of his desk where he did all his research.

"You won't be saying no." Cas insisted.

"Well, then it's not really a request, is it?" Bobby taunted.

Castiel flexed a shoulder, but otherwise didn't move. "It is a request. But the request is not for me, not in the sense you think. The request is actually for Dean."

Panic grabbed Bobby's stomach, his mouth suddenly dry. "What have you done, Castiel? Where is Dean?"

Castiel raised a hand as if to ward off Bobby's panic. "Dean is fine. Last I saw, they were on a hunt in New Mexico for La Llorona. You'll be pleased to know I haven't had any more reports of children's deaths."

"I don't need updates from you," Bobby responded testily.

"Look," Castiel took a step toward him, "I understand that you do not understand my actions, and that you do not accept them. I am not here to convince that I did the right thing, and arguments only waste time. This task requires haste."

Bobby looked at him, raised his eyebrows, "Well? What is it?"

Castiel may seem small to someone who didn't know him, but he had a way of making sure your attention was on him. He delivered his next line while looking out the window to his left but the words went right to Bobby's core.

"The Winchester bloodline is continuing."


	2. Chapter 2

An irritating fact about conversing with angels? They felt no need to fill the silence. Most humans, give them an empty space in a conversation and they start to ramble, to explain, hell, give them enough time and they'll deliver a whole damn monologue. Not angels, though. Angels sat quietly and waited for the next piece of the conversation to fall into place. Bobby once imagined that a conversation between heavenly beings could conceivably take years. In the scheme of eternity, years are meaningless.

Castiel stood quietly for a long minute and waited for Bobby. Cas had learned enough about humans to know that they needed time to process information. Cas didn't move towards Bobby, he knew his welcome here was tenuous at best. He could demand to be welcomed, but he had no desire to make this situation worse. He still held out hope that Bobby, Dean and Sam would understand his actions soon. He learned quickly that demonstrations of his new power did not help his case.

The opposite was true in heaven, of course. Demonstrations of power were the only currency accepted, and since he had absorbed the souls of Purgatory, Castiel had been spending freely. He preferred not think about the angels that were still suffering, not because he felt remorse. Each angel had been given a choice- him or Raphael. Those that chose Raphael were now regretting their decision. No, Cas chose not to think about it because there was so much more punishment to be doled out. In fact, he had been in the midst of a particularly public display of what happens to angels who choose not to accept Castiel as the new God when this urgent news had worked its way to him.

He wasn't surprised. Angels have been around for millennia; little occurs that they haven't seen a thousand times before. No, no surprise - concern was a more accurate word. Even now, though they remained estranged, Sam and Dean's fate were of particular interest to Castiel. And their fate was tied to so many others - now there would be one more.

"You want to explain that one to me?" Bobby interrupted Cas' thoughts. Cas took this as a sign that he had processed the information already given. Humans were so slow.

Cas brought his eyes from the window, but still did not make a move towards Bobby. "There is to be another Winchester. Now you can see why-"

Bobby cut him off. "_Another_ Winchester? How many kids did John have while he was on the road? And why are we just hearing of this now? Wouldn't you think this is something we would have wanted to know when Raphael was still looking for meat suit?"

"Yes, it would have been very important at that time. But this Winchester was not born then, in fact, he is not born now." Castiel explained.

Bobby knew what Castiel was trying to say, but a little denial went a long way with humans. "Not in existence? What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Dean. Dean is going to have a son. Another Winchester." There, Cas thought, he'd said it. There was no mistaking that statement.

They didn't make enough whiskey for this conversation. But lucky for Bobby, a bottle was never far away. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table, sat down heavily and reached for bottle that was sitting there.

"It would be advisable to be sober for this task." Castiel prompted.

"There is no task. I don't know what you or one of your angels thinks you overheard or think you know. Dean didn't knock any girl up. This ain't the first time some gal tried to reel one of the boys in with this scheme; it always turns out to be just that, a scheme. Those boys are careful, Dean especially." He delivered this statement while twisting off the cap and pouring himself a glass. Cut back, sure, what a joke.

"I assure you that there is a-,"

"No there ain't. I don't know how you got in the middle of this mess, but, trust me, in a few weeks you're going to see who's right."

"We don't have a couple of weeks. We may not even have hours."

"Idjit, you not listening!"

Castiel's patience was starting to evaporate. He moved towards Bobby for the first time since arriving. He stared him in the eye and delivered the next line through a clenched jaw "You are trying my patience. We need to leave now, get this girl somewhere safe. The demons will be after her. We are in a race, and we need to win."

"Listen, Cas, I get it. You don't get all the subtleties of human behavior. Sometimes women tell men they're preg-"

Cas cut him off. "She has said nothing. She doesn't know."

"Come again?"

Cas walked over to the sink and stared out the window at the useless cars piles high in the yard. Humans were so wasteful – of cars, of food, of friends. He sighed and stared down into the sink. "She doesn't know she is going to have a child, much less Dean's son. It's only been four weeks. I know, you know, and you can guarantee Crowley knows. No one else knows- for the moment, not even the woman herself. Perhaps you can see my call for haste."

Bobby raised the glass to his lips. It never got there. In fact, it was gone. "What the hell?" Castiel didn't explain, when he said he needed him sober he meant it. Bobby's sigh was resigned. He turned to talk to Castiels back. "What do you need me to do? Can't you and your legion of followers handle this? Why not zap her someplace to keep her safe."

Castiel turned to face Bobby. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms. His chin rose a bit, he was the dealer in this game of cards- everyone knew it. "If only it were so simple. First, I am not 'zapping'" Cas made air quotes with his hands to emphasize the ridiculous word "her anywhere. I do not want to harm the child. And obviously, I can't bring her to heaven. As for my legion, as you call them, their loyalty is not unquestionable. The angels seemed more scared of me than thankful. It is very strange. In any case, she needs to be someplace safe for duration of her condition. And, rundown though it is, this structure is very safe. Demons nor angels can get in." Cas looked pointedly at the Enochian symbols on the windows. They had been put there a couple of months ago to keep a particular angel out. To keep Castiel out. Of course, now that he was more powerful than an angel, such nonsense did not affect him, but that fact that the symbols were still up was a reminder of how far apart this friendship had been torn.

"Gee, thanks." Bobby commented dryly. Then a thought struck him. "And after her 'condition' is over?"

"One problem at a time." Castiel pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and set it on the table. It contained an address in Chicago. He retreated back to his position by the sink. "That is her apartment. Get on the road, get her in the car, get her here. We can talk more when that is done. And do not tell Dean. That is not request."

"Don't tell Dean I have a woman in my home carrying his child? Don't you think he's going to figure it out?"

"Possibly, but not any time soon. I need to speak with this woman before he does. Do not cross me on this point." Castiel pushed away from the counter, and looked at Bobby. There were those eyes again. Bobby kept quiet, Castiel took that as a point of acquiescence. "Also, demons will be on there way there, too. Be careful."

"So this poor women, who don't even know she's pregnant, is about to be kidnapped by either the good guys or the bad guys. Her life irrevocably altered because Dean was careless. She's gonna love us, ain't she?"

"First, Dean was careful. If you mean what I think you mean, but the Winchester line was never meant to stop with Sam and Dean. Think of this as the natural order of things." Bobby scoffed, natural order his ass. Castiel ignored the interruption "And two, the demons will not kidnap her. They will want to poison the womb."

"Poison? Like rat poison?" Bobby was starting to get that sense of urgency Castiel had tried to convey.

"No. There are two very specific ways demons can poison a woman carrying a child, and neither kills the child."

"Two ways?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, both extremely unpleasant and violent." Castiel delivered this in that maddening monotone again.

Bobby stood up. He began to look for his keys and phone. "What does it do to the child if it doesn't kill it?"

Bobby was talking to empty space, Castiel was gone. "Well, kiss my ass too you son of a bitch." It felt good to say it. But his war with Castiel was on the back burner, it was time to hit the road.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ugh."

Sara put her head on her desk. Damn flu. She wanted to leave work so bad she could taste it, but the nausea wasn't bad as before and, besides, she liked to save her time off for stuff she could actually enjoy. And sitting in bed being nauseous watching reruns of Dr. Sexy, M.D. did not qualify as fun.

Her office mate, Kaj (short for Kajari), walked in. "Still feeling poorly, Sari?"

"Yes, and I still blame you." Sara whined.

"Tsk, Sari, it is not my fault or Tahir's fault."

Kajari was lucky that she and Sara were friends, because Sara was feeling particularly uncharitable at the moment. They had gone out to lunch after Sara's latest dating disaster, to "cheer her up". At the last moment, Kajari had brought her three year old son with her. Kaj's mother was supposed to watch Tahir, but she had come down with the flu and didn't want to get Tahir sick. The child had been whiny and uncooperative, and the lunch had been cut short with profuse apologies from Kaj that next time, no children would be involved. By the end of the day, Sara knew that Tahir had been feeling out of sorts due to catching his grandmother's flu. She knew it because her own symptoms started later that night.

She spent the next week out of work and either in the bathroom or bed. She would call the office to make sure things were still progressing and each time Kajariwould assure that she was not missing a thing. "Oh Sari, I am so sorry." (When they had first met two years ago, Kajari had mistaken Sara's name for the word Sari, and a dress-like garment from India, the name had stuck).

"Don't worry. I needed some time off anyway." Sara had assured her, and it was true, Sara did need time off. Life at a management consulting firm was stressful on good days, and there hadn't been too many good days lately. There was talk that firm would be bought up by another, larger firm in the Chicago area. No one seemed to know what that meant for their jobs. The week off had been time to reflect and regroup, and plan. Definitely plan. But that had been three weeks ago. While she didn't feel like death warmed over anymore, she was still feeling nauseous at times throughout the day. Kaj was concerned that it wasn't the flu, and advised her to see a doctor. Sara didn't want to see a doctor, she was busy. She knew what the doctor would say – 'get some rest'. She wasn't spending her co-pay on that crappy advice.

"Well, I can still blame you can't I?" Sara asked.

"If it makes you feel better." Kaj said. She chuckled and headed over to her desk. She was a classic Indian beauty, with the grace of a queen. Sara always felt a little pang of jealously for Kaj's svelte figure.

Sara was not svelte, or classic, and not particularly graceful. She was what boys liked to call top heavy. In a city where all the girls were in single digit dress sizes, Sara's size 12 figure was definitely not _en vogue_. She'd given up caring a while ago. She used to joke she was more Christina Hendricks than Christina Ricci, and if that meant she didn't get as many dates as other women, well, more time for work. Oh, she got stares, particularly if some cleavage was showing. But those stares rarely turned into conversations.

Another sigh. "Kaj, will you close the office door? I'm just going to put my head down for 15 minutes. If I don't feel better than I'm going home."

"Sure," Kajari replied. She didn't looked concerned, as a mother of two she knew what Sara's issue was, but she knew Sara well enough to know that she sometimes shot the messenger. Hopefully, she would figure it out soon, or Kaj was sure she would let something slip. Kaj went over and closed the door and sat back down at her desk. She stuck in her headphones and began assembling a particularly involved cost spreadsheet. She left Sara to her thoughts.

Sara's thoughts were only going one place, where they always went she closed her eyes. Dean. Inwardly, she was almost irritated with herself. It's not like Dean was the only short term relationship she'd ever had. But it certainly was the strangest. With her head on the desk, and stomach roiling, she remembered a drive they had taken on a Sunday. It had been one week since they had met in the downtown bar, and about the only time they had left the apartment. Dean had said he needed some fresh air, and Sara had suggested a drive in his Impala. She didn't get to ride in classic cars that often, and told Dean that it would a thrill for her. He'd agreed, more for the chance to show off his car than to actually drive, Sara surmised, but it was nice just the same. Little words were said as they drove through the Illinois countryside. A warm day, Dean's car, and a cooler of beer; it had been heaven.

"Ohhhhh" This 'rest' wasn't working. Sara was sure she was going to toss her cookies, and she preferred not to do it at the office. "I give up Kaj. I'm going home."

"Good call," Kaj said. "I'll let the partners know what's up. You have plenty of sick time built up, take a couple of days. And listen, take my advice, please, see a doctor."

Sara stared at her friend, and nodded weakly. "If I don't feel better by the end of week, I'll go. I promise."

Kaj sighed, she knew Sara was going to need that appointment no matter how she felt in two days. But she also knew her friend; this was the best she was going to get. "OK, feel better soon."

"Thanks." Sara shut her computer down and gathered up her phone and keys. It was only ten in the morning, but already she felt as tired as if she had worked all day. As she rode the elevator down to the first floor, Sara couldn't help but wonder what Dean was doing right now. She mentally shook herself.

"Snap out of Sara" she muttered to herself. As soon as she felt better, she resolved to take her and Kaji out for a girl's night out. No kids allowed.

Sara decided to skip the train; she didn't think her stomach would take the rocking. The best part of leaving in the middle of a workday was the traffic, or lack thereof. Within ten minutes of hailing a cab, Sara was walking into her one bedroom apartment in Winthrop Tower. She didn't stop to look at the lake, instead shedding her shoes and clothes as she made a B-line for her bed.

"Oh pillow, never leave me." She muttered as she lay down on her bed. She gave a small laugh to the empty room, her most faithful companion was her pillow. She lay awake willing her stomach to calm down. Her mind wandered to the first night she brought Dean home.

She wasn't a one night stand kind of girl, but her team had recently lost a client and the chewing out the team received had left them all out of sorts. She and Kaj had gone out for drinks. Kaj had left after two rounds to get home to her family, but Sara had stayed. She was four rounds down on vodka cranberries when Dean approached. "You look like you've had as rough a day as me." Sara looked over at the voice. It belonged to a tall guy in worn jeans, work boots, and flannel shirt. Construction worker, Sara thought. They were a dime a dozen in this neighborhood. Ah well, at least he had washed the dust off. Plus he had clear hazel eyes, and who didn't love a good pair of hazel eyes? His hair needed work though, brown and cut closely to his head, he could have been mistaken for soldier with that haircut. He also needed a shave, but it was Friday at ten in the evening, every guy needed a shave.

"Rough day? Absolutely. At least the week's over." She gave the man a wry smile and waited for next pick-up line. She didn't have long to wait.

"Here alone, beautiful?" If she'd had less drinks, Sara would have walked out then. Didn't this guy have better lines that?

"Yes, and my name's not beautiful." She tried and failed at a half smile.

The guy had raised his eyebrows at the soft rebuke, but trudged ahead nonetheless. "How about I buy you round and learn what your name really is?"

Sara sighed. She had nothing else going on, and her empty apartment didn't look appealing at the moment. "Why not?" Her smile was a little more genuine this time.

The night had proceeded in a predictable pattern. Drinks, more drinks. Then flirting, and more flirting. Sara didn't know who had suggested they "get out of there" but get out of that bar they had. Dean mentioned he was sharing a motel room with his partner, so they had ended up at Sara's apartment. Sara would love to say it had been a night of great sex, but the truth was she didn't remember much. Ten vodkas will do that to you. She did remember waking up at nine with an urge to pee and a burly construction worker still sleeping next to her. She eased out of bed and to the bathroom. While in there she tried to figure out what she was going to say. Luckily, she remembered his name- Dean. She remembered that because she had made a lame joke about being 'dean of what?' – it had been hilarious last night. After a drink of water and two aspirin she opened the door to figure out what to say to this guy. As she opened the door, Dean stood on the other side in briefs - and not much else.

"Oh!" Sara stood there awkwardly. What did he want?

"Do you mind?" Dean stared pointedly into the bathroom.

"Oh. Oh, sure. All yours." Sara moved around him. Sara looked over her shoulder as he shut the door. So much for awkwardness. She needed coffee, and for that she headed to the kitchen and coffee maker. By the time it was percolating, Dean had reappeared from the bathroom, gone to the bedroom to dress and met her in the kitchen.

"Good morning, beautiful." Dean said with a half-smile. "Oh, sorry. _Sara_."

Sara smiled. "Good morning. Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Sara slid a cup of coffee over to him. Now, it was time for the uncomfortable silence. "Working today?"

Dean looked at her over the rim of his cup. "Excuse me?"

"You know, any big construction projects going on?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and shook his head. "Darling, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Aren't you in construction?"

"No, what gave you that idea?" Dean took another sip, even a confusing conversation would not keep him from some morning joe.

"The whole outfit, the 'rugged look' as its called. I've seen the type before. Guess I did a little stereotyping, huh?"

"Just a little. But, I get what you're saying. When am I leaving, right?" His cup was half empty.

"Ummmm…. I wasn't trying to say that. I just…" Sara's voice trailed off. She didn't think this situation could get more awkward. Well, time to take the bull by the horns. "Really, I wasn't saying that. I'm a little hung over. OK, a _lot_ hung over and sometimes morning-afters can be awkward. I just like to make it easier, that's all." There, that should clear the air.

Dean took a seat at her small eating bar and set his elbows on the counter; it seemed the awkwardness was all on Sara's side. "Have a lot of guys back to your apartment, do we?"

Sara had the grace to blush a little bit. "No! No, it's not like that. You know what? I'm just going to keep my mouth shut until the vodka wears off."

"Oh, sweetheart, don't be like that. I don't mind a little conversation. You know what? I'll start." Dean had lots of morning-afters. Sometimes, he even avoided trying to have them by leaving before daylight, but he had matched her every vodka with a shot of whiskey. Even with his high tolerance for alcohol, he was going to need at least two cups of coffee to before going out the door. "I love your vinyl collection. Classic rock is sort of my thing."

"Ah. Well, confession. Those aren't mine. They were my dad's. He didn't have much when he passed away, but I remember him listening to those records growing up. I made sure to get them before the rest of his family got their hands on them and sold them or threw them away. To be honest, I don't think I've even listened to them a couple of years. But I still pull them down from the shelves. I love looking at the cover art." That was more than Sara had told anybody about herself in a while. She was a little shocked when it came out. "What about you? Since you're not in construction, what do you do?"

"I'm an FBI agent. Here in town for a couple of days looking into some murders. Special Agent Dean Plant, at your service." A couple of days was pushing it, Dean thought, he and Sam didn't have any leads on this vengeful spirit they were hunting. It was turning into a frustrating hunt. Then again, their concentration was a little off as well. It had been two weeks since the showdown with Cas.

They were making every effort to avoid Castiel at the moment. He was unstable and dangerous. He had called on Dean's cell a couple of times. Dean had ignored them. Sam had talked to Castiel once while they were at Bobby's. According to Sam, Castiel had found him outside and asked to talk. It had been a frustrating and pointless conversation. Dean had no desire to repeat Sam's experience. He was making every effort to shut down his emotions when it came to Castiel. He had been a trusted friend, family even, but he had made his choices and Dean would need to put a stop to him. He wasn't thinking about that now, either, but he knew the time was coming when he would he would not only have to think about it but do it.

In the meantime, the voluptuous redhead in the silk bathrobe was taking up his attention. She had soft curls that reached to her shoulder, clear green eyes, and the longest eyelashes he had ever seen. Correction; the longest _real_ eyelashes he had ever seen. She even had a cute dimple on her chin - but it didn't appear when she was smiling, only when she was smirking. It was so damn sexy; Dean wanted to make her smirk all the time. Of course, that wasn't the first thing he noticed about her, but once he was able to look at her face he discovered it was passably pretty. He was hoping for a repeat performance of last night, but she was being skittish. He had time. Sam was researching the family that was being targeted by the mysterious ghost; he would call when had something. Nothing for Dean to do but entertain himself – or more exact let the double DD's in front of him entertain him.

"An FBI agent? Don't you guys normally wear suits and trench coats?" Sara asked.

Dean winced a little, he knew a guy who always wore a trench coat. "Not when we are trying to get information. The suit and tie are little off-putting in some social circles." Dean downed the last of his coffee. "Any chance of a refill, or do you want to throw me out now?"

Sara gave a small laugh. "I think we have enough for one more cup." She turned to get the coffee pot when she heard a cellphone buzz. She put the pot on the counter and went in search of her phone. It was probably Kaj making sure she got home alright.

"Don't bother, sweetness, it's mine." Dean called after her as she was about to head into the bedroom for her phone.

"Oh, ok." Sara pivoted around and headed back to the coffee pot. She could hear Dean having a conversation with someone at the other end.

"Sammy, what's up?" Dean's way of saying hello, she supposed. "Oh yeah?" More listening. "You don't say. Well, that's something we need to check out." Short pause. "I'm still downtown, not too far from the bar we were at last night." Dean shot her a look and smile. "Yeah, yeah I did." He turned his attention back to the phone. "You got the car, right? Come pick me up, I'll text you the address. I'll tell you Sammy, we need to get this case wrapped up; that other more pressing issue isn't going to wait forever." Short sip from his now refilled cup while he waited for the response. "Ok, see you then." Dean ended the call and stood up. "I need to text my brother your address; he's going to come pick me up. Can you give it to me?"

"Sure," Sara gave him her address. "Break in the case?"

"Well, I'm not really supposed to discuss that with you, but, my partner, Sam might have a lead." Dean smacked his hand gently on the counter. "But that still doesn't tell me what I'm going to do with you?"

Sara didn't like that, she laid on the sarcasm, "_Do with me_?"

"Oh come on, you know what I mean." Sara had to hand it to him, the guy was smooth. Clichéd, but smooth. "How about we meet for drinks tonight, and we can continue our discussion of each other's fascinating lives." He said this while walking around the counter, sliding and arm around her waist and playing with the barely tied sash that held her robe together.

"Oof, more drinks? No thanks. But you are welcome to come by here for a beer, you know, if you want to." Sara tried to sound nonchalant, but it was hard when a man's lips were nuzzling your neck.

"I do want." He was kissing his way down her cleavage. "Any particular time?" His voice was a little muffled as he nosed past the V in her robe to continue his exploration.

"Um, what?" Sara tried to clear her head. "No, anytime is good. I'll be sleeping out this hangover, but I promise to be dressed and ready when you get here."

His head popped up and he smiled as he said, "Even better if you promise _not_ to be dressed when I get here."

Sara smiled at the memory. He had returned that evening, fairly early- around six and true to her promise she wasn't dressed.

That's how the relationship went, if you could call it a relationship. Two weeks, each day borrowed, it seemed. From what, Sara had no idea, but Dean never let her forget that he was only passing through. They didn't talk of the future; they talked of past and now. But most times, there wasn't a whole lot of talking to be done. Sara had never met anyone who worked for the FBI before, but she always imagined that they kept better hours than Dean did. Very often they spent the afternoon together after Sara got home from work, only to have Dean leave as the eleven o'clock news came on. Sometimes he came back in the wee hours of the morning, sometimes he didn't. Dean resisted her attempts to talk about his life, his case, or anything personal for that matter. He was still a mystery to her. Maybe that was why she was still pining over him. Perhaps she would have been glad to see the back of him if she had had time to get irritated over his drinking (which he did a lot of) and strange comings and goings (which was more frequent than the drinking).

Sara only met his partner, Sam, once. She remembered him vaguely from the bar that night. He had left with a girl she recognized. Very pretty girl, for sure, but one that was rumored to charge for her services. It puzzled Sara once she got to meet Sam close-up, he wasn't a man who should have to pay. In fact, if she had known he needed some company she had three or four single friends who would have provided it for free. Sam greeted her with courtesy as he came to pick up Dean, but refused an offer of refreshment- stating that they had to 'hit the road'. He seemed anxious to be out of her presence, and Sara wondered if Sam disliked her. She mentioned it to Dean that night.

"Sammy? No, he doesn't hate you, he doesn't know you. And he would prefer to keep it that way. There's a lot going on right now, and we're in the middle of it. A veritable shitstorm, and it sucks. For the both of us." Dean sighed heavily. "We are going to have to do some things that are gonna be tough. Sammy's way of dealing with it is to spend a lot of time by himself."

Sara thought that was sad. She murmured an apology for prying and Dean assured it was okay. They made love again before drifting off to sleep. Dean was gone before she got up the next morning.

There was a note. 'What a cliché' Sara thought. She even avoided looking at for an hour, she didn't need to- she knew what it would say; 'Time to go, had a great time.' Oh, he might use more flowery words, but that is what it would boil down to. She was in for a little shock though. The note said those things, but it also said something else. Dean had written that if she ever felt threatened to call him. 'Feel threatened? What the hell does that mean?' Sara thought. She tossed note in a drawer, and tried to forget about it.

Here she was a month later, still thinking of that note. A hundred times she had resisted the urge to pick up the phone and dial Dean's number. She just wanted to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' even maybe 'when will you be back?' but she didn't. He was gone, and she decided right then and there that as soon as her stomach stopped being the most traitorous organ on the planet, she was going out on a date. She didn't know with whom yet, she would figure that out when she could stand up without wanting to puke.

Sara rolled over and drifted in and out of sleep. Three hours later and she was still feeling like shit. "Damn flu," she muttered. But she was beginning to worry, maybe it wasn't the flu. Food poisoning? "Ah, hell. OK Kaj, you win, I'm calling the doctor." She yelled at an empty apartment.

What she thought was an empty apartment. As she rolled over she came face to face with two men standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She shot up to a sitting position, much to the dismay of her stomach. Terror gripped her and left her silent. The shorter man in the black suit and black overcoat spoke first.

"'ello, love."


	4. Chapter 4

"I bet you're wondering what we're doin' here? Don't you worry; I'm going to tell you." He took a step inside her room. He was dressed from head to toe in black, with expensive shoes and a silk tie. "However, we are on a tight schedule so first things first."

He raised his hand in mid-air as if he grabbing at something. Sara had only moment to wonder what he was doing before her eyes widened with pain. All along her arms and legs small, precise cuts were carved into her skin. They rose from seemingly nowhere; neither of the men in the bedroom had pulled out a weapon. Each was a precise symbol that looked as if it had been cut with the sharpest of scalpels. Even more odd, there was little blood coming from the wounds. However, Sara didn't notice any of this - she had retreated into a haze of pain. She fell back onto the bed and arched her back, she tried to scream but pain had made sound impossible. The man dropped his hand and placed it back into the pockets of his black overcoat.

"Sorry about that, my dear, but, like I said we are pressed for time. Don't worry, those little cuts are only temporary. It will allow us to do what we need to do without interruption." The man walked closer to her, as if to inspect the marks. "Yes, very nice. That should keep my ex-partner in crime out for a few moments. It's not perfect, but what is these days?"

Sara didn't know if the pain had lessened or she had just been able to get out under its grip, but she turned her head to man standing over her bed. She had lived in Chicago since graduating from a small northern Indiana college 9 years ago. She been mugged and her apartment robbed, crime was a fact of life in such a large urban environment. She had always been told to stay as aware as possible during any crime. 'Don't concentrate on the crime, concentrate on the person doing the crime,' the police always told her. She did her best to take mental stock of the men who had broken in; she wanted to be able to give a description - should she actually live through this. The man in front of her was her height, which was to say average, wore a black suit to go with black overcoat. His hair was brown and receding, his facial features seemingly too wide for his face. But most notably was his British accent - you didn't hear that every day in Chicago. She turned her head slightly to look at the other man still standing by the doorway, dark brown shirt and black jeans, blond hair worn long in the back with sharp features, taller than the older man but still under six feet. Sara closed her eyes briefly to try to get these details to memory.

All of this took place in less than ten seconds while the older man, seemingly the leader of the two, removed his overcoat and started to roll up his sleeves. He was speaking to her. "I want you to appreciate the trouble I went through to get to you; angel in front of your door and an angel on your couch. You couldn't see them of course, but I could smell them as soon as I arrived. Heaven's down two angels, our new God won't like that. But guess what," he paused to look her in the eye and smile, "I don't bloody care."

He approached where she lay on the bed. She tried to move, but suddenly found she couldn't. It was as if her body was imprisoned in stone. She strained with all her might, even breaking a sweat, but though she was using all her energy she didn't move an inch. She turned her head to look at the man who was watching her try to move and spoke through parched lips, "Why?"

"Ah, yes, we haven't made introductions. I know, how rude of me." He casually pointed to his chest. "Name's Crowley, most powerful demon in hell. Actually, King of Hell - but you can just call me Crowley. I don't stand on formality." He turned to the man who still hadn't moved from the doorway. "Now that- that is what you call a specialist. His name is Uphir, but everyone just calls him 'The Doctor'." The man who had introduced himself as Crowley pulled a knife from his pocket. "The Doctor will make his purpose here very clear in a moment. But I need to do my bit first."

Crowley leaned way over until his face was mere inches from Sara and tapped the knife gently on her nose, "And to answer your question of why, I give you an answer of two words- Dean Winchester." As he said those two words his face screwed up into a gruesome mask and he made a clear precise cut down the center of her chest. The cut started above the v-neck t-shirt she had put on when she got home from the office, but it didn't stop there. He continued to slice – cutting both the t-shirt and skin at the same time. Sara screamed, she would have moved away from the pain, but she was still frozen. Unlike the small symbol cuts on her arms and legs, this cut bled –a lot. Crowley took a moment to admire his work. "Sorry we don't have time to chat more, but you're about to meet a real life angel. Aren't you excited? He won't be able to undo my ministrations, of course." As he said this he made a small cut just below his wrist. He watched the blood well up on his skin until it was near dripping, then he placed it on the cut he had just made on Sara's chest. "This part won't take long, just need to make sure I bleed on you a little. Do you know a little demon blood goes a long way? Very potent. I'm something of an amateur surgeon, not on the caliber that The Doctor is of course, but I do well enough to suit my needs." He turned to The Doctor and nodded slightly, and the man who had stood at the door for almost a full five minutes now came into the bedroom.

Sara gasped the words "Dean Winchester." She had meant to say 'I don't know Dean Winchester' but shock was starting to rob her of her facilities. A sob escaped her throat.

Crowley tsk'ed, "Now, no tears, love. I promise we're almost done. Of course, you won't be the same - but that's what you get when you throw your lot in with the Winchesters." He removed his arm from her chest.

"Don't" sob, tried to breathe, "know."

Crowley wasn't listening. He nodded to The Doctor once more, and began to roll down his sleeves and step away from the bed. "Your turn, make sure you get it right. We've only got one chance." This time it was The Doctor's turn to nod. Once he did that he leaned his head way back and opened his mouth wide. Black smoke started to pour out of his mouth towards the ceiling. Sara was sure she was dreaming. Once he seemed to be done expelling smoke, the man collapsed on the floor. The black smoke hovered above the ceiling before forming a long tunnel that headed straight for Sara.

The next few moments would be something Sara would never have believed had she not experienced itself. The smoke seemed to push itself down her throat, triggering a violent gag reflex. A horrible pain came from her stomach, it was as if someone had grabbed her around the waist and squeezed. Sara felt like the smoke was inside her for years, when in reality it was only one or two minutes. Then as fast as it was inside her, it was coming out. It went straight for the prone body of the man. He stood up once all the smoke had disappeared inside his mouth.

"Well, my dear, we're finished here, it's been a pleasure and all that. Say hi to Dean and Sam for me, and let them know I'll be in touch." Crowley raised his arm and squeezed at the air again, and as if my magic the marks from her arms and legs disappeared. She looked at her arms to make sure she hadn't imagined the marks disappearance, then back at the two men. But they were gone. Sara hadn't heard a footstep or a door close, more proof that she was losing her mind. Sara found she was suddenly able to stand. She did so quickly, too quickly.

In the movies when someone has been through a violent event, they come through with makeup and dignity intact. Real life was not so tidy. As soon as she stood up, Sara vomited on the floor. That action brought her to her knees on the hardwood floor, and not in a graceful manner. She couldn't see through the tears, she wiped at her eyes – she needed to focus. But when she looked at the hand that had wiped at the tears she noticed the moisture wasn't clear. Her tears were a smoky gray color, one more thing she couldn't understand. But she had long since stopped trying to understand. Her only thought was to survive. She felt moisture between her legs, and placed a hand there. She brought the hand back before her eyes and saw that it was covered with same smoky gray liquid that had come from her eyes. It was at this point she could handle no more. Sara let the blackness engulf her.

And that was how Castiel found her, dressed in a t-shirt and underwear, bleeding from the chest, long black streaks running down her face and her legs, mere inches from her own vomit passed out on the floor.

He was too late.


	5. Chapter 5

Technically, he had been on time, but had spent the last ten minutes trying to crack the spell Crowley was working to keep him out. Just when he had almost found a way in, the barriers had been removed. He was inside within a second, but he already knew Crowley had been there and gone. He could only sigh and begin to deal with this new, more dangerous issue. Back when the 'original' God had still been talking, it was made very clear that there should always be Winchesters. Castiel had taken up that cause as well. The Winchesters would always be important to heaven, even the one that was not yet born.

Castiel picked Sara up off the floor. She was unconscious; something Castiel was grateful for at the moment. He wrapped her loosely in blanket on the bed. He would not touch her with his angel powers; he would not heal her, or make her forget. She was in a delicate condition, made all the more tenuous by Crowely's interference; he didn't want to chance that she might lose the child inside her. He quickly cleared up the mess in her room with the mere swipe of his hand, then it was time to tend to his fallen soldiers.

He had placed them in the apartment yesterday afternoon, as soon as he was made aware of the news. They had remained hidden so as not to scare Sara, but their deaths had brought their forms into plain view. Had Sara walked into her living room she would had seen two dead men on the floor, arms splayed, and the outline of wings on the floor underneath their corpses. But she hadn't seen it, Crowley had worked fast. Castiel stared at the men, two soldiers sent to protect something valuable. They had failed. He decided it was good they were dead, it saved him the trouble. Castiel had little patience for failure lately, even though he had once been thought of as an angel who had failed heaven the most.

He placed two fingers on each of the men's foreheads, and as soon as he did they disappeared. Their bodies would go to heaven where they would be laid to rest with all the angels who had lost their lives recently. It was a strange paradox that angels didn't have an afterlife, an eternity. When they ceased to exist, there was no other dimension for them. Castiel tilted his head as if to listen for something, but actually he was looking. He was looking for Bobby: he found him in his car still an hour away. Castiel decided against transporting to see him, he would wait here.

He heard a sound from the bedroom, a moan. In a spilt second he was there standing over Sara, who had started to stir. He did not reach out to comfort her; he simply stood beside her bed looking at her. She would demand answers when she awoke, he needed to decided how much to tell her.

Sara awoke in her bedroom in the late afternoon light. Her chest and stomach hurt and for moment she couldn't understand why. Suddenly, the events of the past hour rushed back into her brain and she opened her eyes to make sure the criminals had left. They had, but she wasn't alone. Standing beside her bed was a man staring intently at her. She couldn't help it, she began to shake. What did this man want? She needed a hospital. "Help me," she whispered.

"I already have. You will be leaving here soon. Can you stand up?" the man inquired.

"I need a doctor." Sara pleaded.

Castiel bent over her slightly to make sure that she comprehended his words. "No, a doctor cannot help you at the moment. I have arranged for someone to protect you, he will be here within the hour. His name is Bobby. I assure you he is trustworthy."

Sara couldn't help the tears that started to flow down either side of her face, her vision clouded up and she assumed that they were still the same grey color as before. "These two men…," she began.

Castiel cut her off. "Crowley. I do not know who the other man is yet, but I will find out." He looked around the room. "Do you have a suitcase or something? You will need to be prepared to leave when Bobby arrives."

"Please call the police. I don't know who you are, or what you want. But I need to go to a hospital. Please." Sara was begging.

Castiel knew the time had come to answer some of the questions she had, even though she hadn't asked them. "My name is Castiel, and I used to be an angel of the Lord. Now, I am the new God. My apologies that I could not get here sooner, I had hoped to rescue you from Crowley's clutches."

Sara just stared at him. "Sure, you're God." She supposed she should be more scared, but she had been pushed past the point of normal emotions. She tried to sit up, slower than the last time. Once she managed to get into the sitting position without feeling like she was going to vomit, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She pulled the cover off that was covering her and looked down. The cut on her chest had stopped bleeding but it would need stitches. She wasn't ready to think about the other issue. Her cell phone had been on the table beside of the bed, she turned her head to look for it.

She heard a sigh behind her. "Are you looking for this?" Sara turned her head to look at him; in his hand he was holding her cell phone. "You will not need this. Not yet. I will return it to you once I get you to Bobby's."

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" Sara was starting to feel trapped.

"I am here to help. Now, again, can you get dressed? You'll be leaving here soon. It will be easier if you can do it yourself, as opposed to me helping you. I am not very coordinated with human functions." Castiel eyes slid to the right as he said this, as if somehow embarrassed by the fact.

Scream. That's really what Sara wanted to do. Scream at this man, who was clearly crazy; scream at the pain that was still engulfing her body; scream for help – however, if she started screaming she would never stop. "Please…I just need to go to this hospital. I won't tell anyone you were here, just…just go."

There was that look again, as if he was studying her. "You do not seem to appreciate that as the new God-"

Sara snapped. "YOU'RE NOT GOD! You're just some CRAZY person. I don't know how you got in here, or what you have to do with the two men who were here before. But if you don't fucking leave, I will scream this whole place down. I am hurt and bleeding and you are certifiable. Leave." She said this in one breath, but the man she was yelling at just stood there.

Castiel was at an impasse. He needed to get this woman up and moving, staying here was dangerous. Crowley was still very powerful, and he was actively wooing Castiel's soldiers to defect to his side. It seemed as everyone he tried to help turned on him. Yet he continued to help – maybe he felt he no choice, and maybe it was something else.

"LEAVE!" Sara shouted.

The shout stirred Castiel from his thoughts. He walked over to where Sara was still sitting on the edge of bed, and leaned in close. He was out of options. He placed two fingers on her forehead, Sara immediately eyes rolled in the back of her head and she started to fall backwards. Castiel caught her and placed her in the center of the bed . He placed a hand on her stomach to assure himself that he hasn't harmed the child – he hadn't. He thought about helping her pack, but he honestly didn't know what humans needed. He would ask Bobby.

Bobby should be here by now. Castiel sat patiently in a chair by the window. He could do nothing but wait for the other man to arrive. Thirty minutes later he knew the Bobby nearing the door. He opened the door before Bobby could even knock. "Hurry," Castiel urged. He led Bobby to the bedroom.

Bobby took in the scene. "I take it we're a little late."

"Yes." Castiel began opening drawers and closet doors. "I asked her to prepare. She wasn't inclined to listen. She seems to be slow understanding the danger. It is very frustrating."

I'll bet, Bobby thought. To Cas he said, "Move out the of the way. Let me handle this." They worked in silence for twenty minutes while Bobby found a bag in her closet and packed things he thought she might need. Chances are she wouldn't be back to this apartment, but he didn't try to guess the things she wanted. He was practical to the bone, and he knew from his marriage – long ago through it was- what she would want. When he was packed he turned to Cas and said "Let's go."

Cas wrapped Sara in a blanket and carried her to Bobby's car, a late 70's Dodge charger. Once he had her lying in the back seat he turned to Bobby, "She should remain sleeping for the duration of the ride. Don't stop, if you can help it. I'll meet you back at your home once you arrive." Then he was gone.

Bobby climbed in the driver's seat, started the car and head for Interstate 90. In the backseat Sara slept on. She never got to see the lights of Chicago in the distance as she drove away from her adopted home for the last time.


	6. Chapter 6

For the second time in 24 hours Sara woke up wondering why her chest hurt. This time the memories were right in front, causing her eyes to pop open. Crazy God Man had left. That was a relief, but another, more pressing issue became apparent. She didn't know where she was. She was lying on a queen size bed covered with blankets that had seen better days. The room consisted of the bed, an antique armoire that needed retouching, a worn armchair by the window, and two doors.

She could tell by looking out the window that she was not on the first floor, but that didn't help her much. She assumed one door was closet, but the larger door led to a hallway. She needed to think. She was injured, half-dressed, and in an unknown location. This was not good. 'Understatement of the year, Sara' she thought. But even more confusing was who. Who was holding her, what did they want? She didn't have any money, she worked for a management consulting company for God's sake, and it wasn't even a good one. She figured they didn't want to kill her; they would have done it already. Clearly, they had the wrong person. She just needed to make the person holding her see that. She hoped her kidnapper wasn't Crazy God Man, he clearly lacked reason and logic.

Sara sat up, and put her legs over the side of the bed. The sound echoed throughout the silent house. She looked down at her chest and was surprised to discover that the wound had been sutured. Stitched, and not all that badly from what she could tell. It still hurt like hell, she was afraid to take a deep breath. The wound started in the center of her chest at the clavicle line and was about eight inches long. A painful, swollen, bruised reminder that her nightmare was all too real.

"Next up, standing." Sara whispered to the empty room. She clutched on the side of the mattress and stood up. "So far, so good." But one thing was becoming clear. She wasn't going to get far in this state. She tried to make it to the chair by the window. Grabbing the iron rails of the bed she shuffled over, her footfalls the only thing she could hear. She sat down in the chair, immediately doubling over as a pain in the abdomen washed over her. She raised her shirt to look at stomach, and saw black spidery veins trailing up the lower half of her abdomen. It was like all of her veins and capillaries had black blood flowing through them.

"It's poison."

Sara started at the voice. The man with the trench coat was back. She hadn't heard him enter the room, she hadn't even heard the door open.

"You." Sara stated. "What did you do to me?"

"Not me - Crowley. Why do you think he brought the other man with him? His name was Uphir, correct?" Sara nodded. Castiel continued, "He was there to make sure that another Winchester wasn't born. Or born not human."

"That is the second time today, I heard of someone named Winchester. I have never heard of anyone named 'Winchester'. What is _wrong_ with you people? Whatever it is you want from this Winchester person, you'll have to use someone else to get it." Sara hoped this would get through to him.

"I doubt what you are saying since you are carrying his child." Castiel said.

"Do you think it would possible for you to make sense for one second? Just one? Really, that's all I ask. Dial back the crazy, if you don't mind." Sara stated.

"That is the second time you have called me crazy. I must ask that you stop." Castiel decided enough was enough. "Do you know Dean Winchester? Or anyone named Dean?"

The penny dropped for Sara. Finally. "Dean." She whispered. To Cas she said, "He said his name was Dean Plant. Are you saying that's _not_ his name?"

"Correct. His real name is Dean Winchester. He's a hunter – him and his brother, Sam, are the best hunters around. They make a lot of enemies, especially with Crowley and his minions." Castiel explained.

"Hunters? Like shooting Bambi? Or hunters like blond dude with a mullet and named after animal?" Sara was trying to wrap her head around this whole situation.

"No, nothing like that at all." With that, Castiel began to explain. He talked of wendigos and rugarus and spirits, he talked of demons and devils, and true evil. He brought a thousand fairy tales to life and made them horror stories. He told what really went bump in the night; he pulled back the curtain for her. In his usual style, he laid it on the line with no preamble, no softening of the horror, no reassurances that though these things existed – she would be OK. Once he said all this, he told another story – of hunters who tracked down these nightmares and destroyed them, of men and angels, of heaven and hell. Castiel made sure that Sara knew that in the middle of it were two brothers, both whom she had met; Sam and Dean Winchester.

He spoke for ten long minutes, giving her the broad brushstrokes of the story. He didn't have time for the details- Dean would fill those in later, should he choose to do so. Once he had stopped talking he walked towards Sara, the first time he had moved towards her since arriving, and sat down on the edge of the bed closest to the chair she was sitting in. He waited. Once again, he was waiting for the human to catch up. She didn't take as long as he thought it would.

"What was Dean really doing in Chicago?" Sara asked. She needed to decide how much of a fool she had been.

"Nothing to do with you, if that is what you are asking, and I suspect it is," Castiel explained. "He was tracking a vengeful spirit that was haunting a family near the neighborhood where you lived. It took some time to destroy that spirit; the remains had been moved during a flood some years back. Normally, he would have been there and gone within a week. This job had taken him two."

Sara nodded. "And you think I'm carrying his child."

"I know you are. A son. You are exactly 34 days along." Castiel said.

Sara turned her head to stare at him.

"We in heaven take a particular interest in certain bloodlines. In light of what I just told you, you may not be surprised to hear that the Winchester line is one of them." Castiel looked down at the hands clasped loosely in his lap; now for the hard part, he thought. "Of course, if _we_ take an interest in seeing the Winchester line continuing, others take a different, more sinister interest. Certain demons, powerful demons, want to see an end to the Winchester line – or at least polluted beyond repair."

"Crowley?" Sara asked.

Castiel nodded, "Yes, he is –at the moment- King of Hell. He runs the place. You can imagine that he is not fond of the Winchester on the best of days. These past two months certainly don't qualify as the best of days for him."

"What did he do to me? Why didn't he just kill me if he wanted to see the child die?" Sara was starting to feel protective of the child she didn't even know she had yesterday.

Castiel looked at her. "He performed a ritual to poisoning the womb. Actually, there are two rituals and he performed them both." Castiel stood up; he was running out of time. Dean and Sam were mere minutes away. This part was easy; he knew the impending conversation with the Winchesters would more perilous. "One way is to poison the bloodstream. He did this by mixing his blood with yours. He cut you more deeply than needed for the ritual. My guess is he wanted to leave a mark. Second, and more troubling, is the temporary demon possession by Uphir. Uphir is known as the doctor of hell. He took possession of you to make sure the essence of the demon stayed with you."

"Are you saying I'm carrying around some of that…that thing in me?" Sara's hand involuntary went to her stomach.

"In a sense," Castiel noted the motion. He approved, he meant she was starting to grasp the danger of the situation. "He took possession and left an essence of himself within you. Again, this is to make sure that your body is polluted."

Sara felt a little bit of hysteria creep in. "They are trying to kill this child?"

"No, if they wanted to do that they would have simply killed you. They have had plenty of time to do it. No, this act is for torture."

Sara interrupted, "They want to _torture_ me?"

Castiel sighed. "No, not you – Dean. You see, Crowley has deduced that there are a couple of outcomes here. One, we do nothing and the child is born. Only a child born from a polluted womb is not human- it is something of a demon. A very powerful demon. We cannot let a child like that be born. Two, we try to cleanse the poison out of you. It is a dangerous procedure. There's a good chance you, your son, or both will not survive. And three, we do succeed and a normal human child is born. Crowley and his minions will make it priority number one to kill it. Dean is very protective of family, and Crowley knows this. This whole situation will be one long torture session for him. Crowley has...history...with the Winchesters." Castiel heard the Impala pull into the driveway. His time was up. "So I have a better solution."

"What?" Sara thought it was strange that she was already trusting of the man that she had nicknamed 'Crazy God Man'. She needed to think of a better name for him.

"You will carry the child for three or four months. It will be an extremely unpleasant time for you; however, it will allow the child to grow stronger. After that period of time, we will perform the cleansing ritual. Waiting means that you will have a much better chance of surviving. It also means that some of the demon essence will remain with the child. We won't know how much until the birth, which will also be extremely unpleasant." Castiel started to walk towards the door, Dean and Sam were walking towards the house now. As soon as Dean knew he was here, he would come looking for him. Better to meet him as he came in the door.

"The grey tears? The marks on my stomach?" Sara felt that at least some pieces were falling into place.

"It means Crowley and Uphir were successful. Your blood is mixed with demon blood. Get used to those signs; it will be with you until we perform the ritual." Castiel needed to go, but he knew what was coming next and he needed to make sure Sara knew it was not a possibility.

"Then maybe I shouldn't have this child. I mean, Dean can have a child with someone else, right?" Sara was grasping at straws. She knew it, Castiel knew it.

"No, this child must and will be born. It is not fair for me to make these decisions for you, I know. But I cannot worry about that." Castiel stated. "Now, if you'll excuse me I need to have a conversation with Dean then I must return to heaven. I will see you soon." He was gone before she blinked.

Sara heard someone coming up the stairs- Dean, she figured. Well, this would be awkward. But it wasn't Dean; Bobby stuck his head in the door.

"Hi," Bobby said. "We can save introductions for a later time, but I want you to know that there is bathroom down the hall, towels in the closet. Also, I packed you some stuff. No complaining if I missed something, you weren't exactly conscious to help. Your bag's in that closet there. Try to keep the stitches dry."

"Did you do this?" Sara asked.

"The stiches? Yep, you're not the first I've patched up, won't be the last. I need to be downstairs for the showdown. Make yourself at home; just don't touch anything that looks like a weapon," Bobby gave a half smile, "chances are it is. I don't need you hurting yourself."

With that his face disappeared from around the door and Sara was left alone. She needed that shower. She pulled her bag out of the closet and got out some comfortable clothes, she didn't think her injuries would stand anything else. A shower – then she would face Dean. She heard shouting from downstairs – men's voices raised in anger. She picked out Dean's voice as one of the loudest. God give her strength.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sam, I'm telling you- we're off our game. We should have been able to hunt down La Llorna in a couple of days. Instead it took us damn near a week. That's too long, Sammy. We're lucky more children didn't die while we out there walking around like idiots." Dean and Sam were nearing Bobby's. The usual routine was to spend a couple of days resting and recovering, helping Bobby with research until the next hunt came along. Dean was trying to convince Sam that they shouldn't be hunting at all. They were distracted, the situation with Cas made them slow. Slow hunters were useless hunters; useless hunters were dead hunters.

"Dean, I get it. But we don't know how long it will be until we figure out what to do. That's assuming we do figure something out. We could be sitting out a long time. And while we're sitting on the bench, people are going to get hurt." Sam threw up his hands, this whole conversation was stupid. "In case you haven't noticed, there are less hunters these days than when we first started. Everyone needs to be out there helping. Including us."

"Goddamit" Dean whispered under his breath. Sam heard him and ignored him. The expletive wasn't directed at him, but at the situation. But Dean was right about one thing, they had taken too long to hunt down La Llorona. Known as "The Weeping Woman" La Llorona had started killing children in Albuquerque a month ago. She went after a very specific type – women who were getting married for the second or third (or fifth, in one case) time, but who also had children. The spirit had figured the mother would have a better life with her new love if her children weren't around. It took Dean and Sam over five days to figure out what had brought this legend back from the dead and set it on the path of killing. As it turned out, part of the La Llorona's hair had been used on shaman's staff; a staff that had never been used in any ritual, until recently. As soon the staff was used in a ritual, the spirit rose and started killing. Getting the shaman to part with the staff had been tricky, and, in the end they had resorted to theft. The pair decided to wait a couple of days after the 'salt and burn' of the staff to make sure the sightings and killings had stopped. They had.

Twenty hours later, including stops for food and gas, they were pulling into the Singer Salvage lot. They drove through the stacks of cars to Bobby's house in the back. It felt good to stand up and stretch. Dean grabbed his gear while Sam was packing up his laptop and papers. "Get a move on or I'm opening the first beer without you." Dean started towards the house.

"You know, you could help! It wouldn't kill you." Sam shouted at Dean's back.

Dean turned around, walking backwards, and shouted, "Sammy, that's a chance I just can't take." With that parting shot, he turned back around and headed for the front door. He didn't get there. Bobby was waiting for him on the front porch. "Hey, Bobby. How's tricks?"

"Where's Sam? I need to talk to you two." Bobby stated.

This brought a smirk from Dean. "No, no I'm fine. The case? Went great – you know, saved a couple of lives – helped out some people. Thanks for asking."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at Dean and started to say something, but at the moment Sam caught up and joined them on the porch.

"Bobby." Sam said. He decided against any smart-ass remarks, the look on Bobby's face told them he something was going on. It wouldn't be pleasant- it never was for them.

Bobby looked up at Sam. Everyone looked up to Sam , he was 76 inches tall. The height made him look older than his 28 years. Until you saw Sam and Dean together, then even stranger could tell who was the older brother. "Sam. How's everything?"

"Wait," Dean interrupted, "He gets a 'How's everything' and I don't? Bobby, I hate to tell you- but I think the thrill is gone."

"Listen up, wiseass, I need to tell you something. And you're not gonna like it." Bobby had no patience for preamble.

"What is it, Bobby?" Sam knew the sooner they got through this the sooner he would be able to get inside.

"Cas is here and he wants to talk to you."

Dean reacted first. "You have got to be kidding me. There isn't anything Cas has to say that I want to hear. Or you for that matter, Bobby. C'mon, you saw what he did, and you're letting him in your house?"

"How much choice do you think I have as to whether Cas is here or not. But I happen to agree with you, about not hearing what he had to say." Bobby looked at them both; he wanted to make sure he had their attention. "But as it turns out, he wasn't here to offer any more apologies or explanations. There's something important he has to tell you Dean, and I want you to listen."

"No fucking way." With that Dean walked around Bobby opened the front door and strode inside. He stopped in the hallway to look at Castiel, who stood in the middle of the Bobby's den. He deliberately turned away from him and headed in the opposite direction, into the kitchen and towards the fridge. He pulled out a beer, opened it and took a long pull. He turned around; Castiel was still standing in the den looking at him.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean sucked in air through his teeth. "You got a set on you, you know that? Showing up here, after all the shit you pulled. After all you've done."

"I am not here to discuss that. There is a new issue that is more pressing." Castiel wanted to Dean to focus on the now, too much anger was in the past to broach it.

"More pressing than the fact that you are walking around with a million monster souls in you? No, I don't think so. Try again, pal." Dean said.

Sam and Bobby walked in; Sam had a look on his face as if Bobby had said something important. They stopped in the hallway, Castiel on their right in the den and Dean on their left in the kitchen, the hallway seemed the safest place. "Dean…I thi-" Sam tried to work in some calm.

Dean pointed his finger at Sam. "No, Sam, no. If you're gonna say that we ought to be listening to this son of a bitch, you can just save it." Another drink of the beer- he was going to need another one soon.

Castiel closed the distance between him and Dean. "I do not have time for this, Dean. I am a little busy. Raphael left heaven in anarchy."

"Right, how could I forget? You're the new boss. And what was the phrase…'a better one'?"

Cas tried again. "There have been develop-"

"Are you having trouble understanding me Cas? I don't care what developments there are. You're hopped up on a million monster souls. Handle it yourself."

Castiel was done. He turned to Bobby who was leaning up against the doorway to the kitchen. "I have changed my mind. I will let you handle this situation from here. Remember what I told you. And let your guest if she needs to reach, how she can do it." Bobby nodded his understanding. "Also, I will have two soldiers stationed here to warn me if things start going wrong. And, do not mistake me, she is not to leave this house. Otherwise, she won't survive."

"I thought Crowley wanted to keep her alive." Bobby knew Crowley could kill easily.

"He does, but there are a hundred other demons out there that know that she exists. They will want to make a name for themselves, and killing her will be the fastest way to do it. They'll even risk Crowley's wrath for the thrill of this particular kill." Castiel looked at Sam. "Sam" he nodded in greeting.

"Cas, what's going on here?" Sam was standing near Bobby. Bobby had mentioned on the porch that Sam needed to 'brace himself' for what was about to happen. Sam didn't know what that was yet, but the whole situation was making him uneasy.

"I had hoped for time to explain, but that seems to be impossible." Castiel looked pointedly at Dean. Dean smiled at Cas in a way that infuriated even a very patient angel/ God. Then he was gone.

"What the hell is talking about Bobby, and why did you let him in? What, we're working for Cas again?" Dean decided to get another beer.

Bobby walked into the kitchen. "Well we've kind of got a situation."

Dean opened his second beer. "No we don't. He's Mr. All Powerful God, let him handle it." He picked up his bag, he was determined to have shower. New Mexico had a way of leaving a layer of dust on you.

"You're right, we don't. You do." Bobby explained.

"Not listening, Bobby." Dean called over his shoulder as he headed up the stairs.

Sam, however, was listening. "What is this all about?"

He didn't hear the response; he heard a crash on the stairs. Dean's bag was rolling down the stairs, as if it had been dropped at the top. Sam walked over to the bottom of the stairs to see what was going on. "Dean?" Sam had seen a lot of strange things, but even he wasn't prepared for what he saw when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Standing two stairs from the top was Dean, holding a beer bottle and the most shocked expression Sam had ever seen him wear. On the landing above him was a woman, a woman Sam couldn't place but seemed familiar all the same.

Dean recognized her though. It wasn't often that he spent more than a couple of nights with a woman. He had had two weeks with Sara. Two really awesome weeks, but like most women he knew he put her out of his mind when he got in this car and headed out of town. He never expected to see her again. He especially never expected to see her in a t-shirt and sweatpants, with hair wet from the shower, standing at the top of Bobby's stairs.

Sara didn't know what to say, so she tried a half smile and the only thing that came to mind. "Hi Dean, you look well."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks to everyone who has left kind reviews, it is very gratifying. This story is not done yet, but I am up to Chapter Fourteen. I'm just behind on posting on here. I'll try to catch up soon. Again, thanks!_

Dean had been taken by surprise more than once, but he usually had recovered by now. For a solid minute Dean just stared at the woman. Sam was still trying to place the face; he turned to look at Bobby who only raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Told you so'. Sam was the first speak, "Bobby?"

But Bobby didn't answer, Dean did. "Sara" he whispered.

"In the flesh," she answered.

"I can see that, but….why? Why are you in South Dakota?" Dean's confusion was written all over his face. Sara would have laughed if she wasn't feeling so ill.

"Is that where I am? To answer your question- I was brought here, by your friend. I believe his name is Bobby." Sara explained.

Sara knew Dean was an observant guy, but this encounter had him at a loss. He missed Sara's white knuckles grabbing the top banister on the landing. Getting up and taking a shower had used all of her energy. She didn't know how long it had been since she ate, but it didn't matter since her stomach felt as if it was on fire anyway. Her upper lip began to sweat and she was sure that if she didn't sit down soon she was going to fall down.

"OK, I got that, but that doesn't answer why. I'm touched that you would come all this way to see me, but you got to move on." Dean smiled.

"Charming," Sara said flatly. "I'm not here by choice." She'd had enough. "Please excuse me, Dean, I need to-" She didn't get farther, her traitorous stomach spoke for her. Sara doubled over and put her hand to her mouth, she knew what was coming. There was no stopping it. She proceeded to vomit on Dean's boots.

"Whoa!" Dean tried to grab Sara and help her, but he decided to stay out of the line of fire. The sound of vomiting had brought Bobby to the foot of the stairs. When he saw what was going on, he pushed by Sam while yelling at Dean to step aside. He grabbed Sara up, turned and walked quickly down the stairs. On his way down he yelled at Sam to open the bathroom door, which he Sam did promptly. Bobby dumped Sara in the bathroom and she ran to the sink, but by that time the worst was over. She spit out the last of the bile onto the sink, and noticed the color was even blacker than last time.

Sara sat heavily on the tile floor and moaned. She heard movement on the stairs, this time it was Dean. "What the hell?"

"Go away," Sara managed to say. "This is all your damn fault." Sara looked up to see three sets of eyes on her. She started to get up. Once she was on her feet, she moved to the door. Looking pointedly at the men she said, "Excuse me?" They hurried to get out of her way.

Sara saw the couch in the den and headed for it. Once she sat down, she leaned her head against the back. Dean walked towards her, "All my fault?" To Bobby he said, "Bobby, somebody better start talking."

Bobby walked over to his desk and sat down heavily. Sam followed and took a chair farthest from Sara; she guessed he wanted to protect his shoes. Sam spoke first. "I take it this is why Cas was here."

"Yep," Bobby stated. "Congratulations, Sam, you're gonna be an uncle." Bobby spoke to Sam, but looked at Dean while he said it. His trucker cap didn't mask the seriousness in his eyes. Dean caught on fast, he spun around to Sara.

"You told Bobby you were pregnant?" Dean practically shouted.

Sara wasn't about to answer that. However, Bobby did. "No, she didn't say anything. Cas told me. He was concerned for her safety and wanted to get her out of harm's way."

"Harm's way? What is going on here Bobby?" Sara knew Dean needed answers; she decided to let Bobby do the explaining.

"Cas showed up last night and asked me to go and get Sara from Chicago before everyone's favorite demon found her."

"And Cas said she was going to have a baby?" Dean was still trying to wrap his head around this.

"Not a baby, your baby. He even told me it was a boy. Ain't that something?"

Dean turned to Sara, "And you can't pick up a phone?"

"I didn't know until that guy told me." Sara explained.

This time Sam piped in. "'That guy'? You mean Cas?"

Sara shrugged, "He said his name was Castiel, he was an angel or God. Frankly, I don't know which end is up anymore."

Dean sat down next to Sara, "What's going on, Sara?" he said gently.

The gentle tone finally brought the tears that had been stored up. "Dean, I swear to God. I don't know. All I know is some guy shows up in my apartment yesterday-"

"Cas." Sam said again.

"No, he said his name was Crowley," the tears were now flowing down her face.

The name Crowley struck out a panicked expression on Dean's face. "Crowley? What was Crowley doing there?"

Bobby answered, "Apparently, any child of the Winchester line is of particular interest to Crowley and his leagues."

"What is that?" Sam asked. Dean and Bobby followed his gaze. He was staring at Sara and the tears that were now flowing. Long black streaks went from her eyes, down her cheeks, and over her jaw.

Bobby sighed. "Crowley." He said again. Bobby recounted the events as he understood them. The particulars were hazy, since he heard the story from Castiel- and Cas had guessed at what had happened since he hadn't been there. The person who had been there decided not to fill in the gaps. Sara figured the general jist was good enough.

While Bobby was speaking Dean stood up and started to pace. Once he had finished the story, everyone waited for Dean to say something. The only thing Dean could do was put his hand on his forehead. He turned to Bobby and opened his mouth but quickly closed it. He resumed pacing. He walked over to the roll top desk that was packed high with books. It wasn't the desk that Bobby used, but an unused antique in the corner. He braced his hands on either side and lowered his head. "Can you all excuse me and Sara for a minute?"

Bobby and Sam murmured agreement. Bobby headed outside, while Sam headed upstairs. Dean waited until they had left, then he grabbed a chair and sat down across from Sara. "Sara, I don't know what to say. I mean, I could tell you the obvious – this wasn't supposed to happen. Hell, I didn't ever expect to see you again. And now, here you are carrying my child and in danger." He paused, he lacked the finesse for this next part. "You can't have this baby. There are a thousand reasons why. Not the least of which is this life that I live."

Sara finally opened her eyes. She looked at Dean, "According to that Castiel guy, I don't have a choice."

"Screw that, of course you do. Trust me, Cas is douchebag."

"Maybe," Sara said. "But…well, he sounded pretty convincing. Even so, Dean…" She didn't finish the thought.

Dean sighed. "OK, let's deal with one thing at a time. Bobby said Crowley poisoned you. Want to tell me what happened?" Sara didn't say anything; she just looked at him as he she lifted her shirt halfway up. She watched Dean as he looked at the spidery veins tracing over her stomach, farther up he could see half of the cut that Crowley left. Even farther up than that he saw the bottom of two breasts that he remembered very well. His gaze caused Sara's cheeks to redden for a moment. Dean cleared his throat. He stood up again, deciding more space was better at the moment. "And Cas said he was going to leave you like that for…how long?"

"A couple of months. He couldn't do anything about it until the child was stronger."

"That son of a bitch."

"Dean, was Castiel telling the truth?"

"I don't know, a couple of months seems like a long ti-"

"Not about that. About everything else. About what you do, about who he is."

Dean captured his tongue between his lip and his bottom teeth. He was past trying to sugar coat her for this. "Although I don't know the specifics, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess he told you about me being a hunter, and all that." Dean took a breath, "Yeah, he was telling the truth."

"You lied to me."

"Yeah, don't get too worked up about it. I lie to everyone." Dean looked around to see if Bobby or Sam had come back – they hadn't. "Look, I need to go talk to Sam for a second. Will you be OK here?"

"I think I'll be fine."

"Try not to throw up on anything." And with that Dean bounded up the stairs.

Sara watched him go. She needed something to eat, and the kitchen wasn't that far. She could make it; at least that's what she told herself. She shuffled to the sink and drank a glass of water; it did wonders for her stomach. Next up, food. However, that would be the hard part. She guessed that most of Bobby's pantry consisted of fortification of the liquid kind, and a quick look proved she was right. She almost wept with relief when she found crackers. She took her crackers and glass of water and sat at the kitchen table. "The food of inmates," Sara said to herself. It didn't matter; she didn't think her stomach would take anything more exotic.

After her 'meal' Sara felt a hundred times better. She returned to the couch and picked up a nearby book. The Calls of Enoch, the spine said. "Lovely," Sara whispered. She laid the book back down and stretched out on the couch. She was asleep within five minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean and Sam had been talking for 15 minutes, but hadn't come up with any ideas about what to do. They heard footfalls on the stairs, and the next minute there was a knock at the door. Bobby walked in after Dean called for him to come in.

"Bobby, I know I keep saying this, but _what is going on_?" Dean asked.

"The simple version is you're going to be a father, Dean." Bobby answered.

"What's the longer version?"

"Well," Bobby began, "All I know is Cas showed up with some cryptic message about how the Winchester line was never supposed to die out and that this woman, this Sara, was going to have a baby."

"She cannot have this baby," Dean stressed.

"Dean's right, Bobby, Sara and her child will have a target on their back all their lives. How is anyone supposed to live like that?" Sam was concerned Dean was about to punch a wall – he was pacing, a clear sign he was keyed up.

"Near as I can figure, no one has much choice in this." Bobby looked at the floor; he hated to be the bearer of bad news.

"Why can't Cas take care of this, 'zap' her someplace safe?" Dean asked.

"Asked the same thing myself. Cas said that his powers weren't what they once were." Bobby paused. "Used to be he could zap anyone anywhere, do some healing, and the human he touched was fine. But now….well, now he's a goddamed nuclear reactor. He uses his powers on someone, there's a good chance he seriously hurts them. You should have seen him at the apartment. Castiel had put Sara to sleep after she got hysterical – happened before I got there. He kept checking her to make sure he hadn't killed her or the baby, and – get this – she didn't wake up for over twelve hours. I'm telling you boys, you do not want Cas working any of his mojo on anyone right now."

"What about the other angels? Cas isn't the only game in town." Again, this was Sam trying to take a level-headed approach.

"Cas doesn't trust his legion. I don't know if he's paranoid, or if he has real reason to worry. I suspect it's a bit of both. I mean, think about it, we don't see or hear of Cas for two months, then he shows up out of the blue to handle this issue himself? Something tells me that paradise ain't like paradise for him right now." Bobby walked over to the window to see if he could see the angels who were keeping guard. He couldn't. He imagined that they were invisible to him. "And Cas left all these rules he wanted followed too. Like Sara can't leave the house- Cas insists it's the safest place for her. She's not even supposed to go outside."

"Are you kidding me? She's a prisoner in here?" Dean practically yelled this question.

Bobby shrugged. "I guess. Cas seems to think that demons have gotten word about your impending bundle of joy – and I think we can all guess what they're going want to do to her."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand, a headache was coming on. "And with Crowley and his doctor having already paid a visit, she's not in a condition to go anywhere anyway." Dean lowered his voice, "Bobby, what am I supposed to do here?"

Bobby knew Dean was struggling, but he didn't have any easy answers for him. He shrugged, "Not much you can do. Make her comfortable and start picking out boy's names I guess."

Sam looked at Dean and sighed heavily, "Great."

"Well, I tell you one thing," Dean looked at Sam and Bobby to make sure they were listening, "Crowley's signed his own death warrant. I mean it, killing him is next on my list. Him and that Uphir."

"It ain't going to be easy." Bobby warned.

"When _is_ it easy? And I don't care." Dean said. "However, his last mistake was laying a hand on Sara. Did you see her chest Bobby?"

"Who do you think stitched her up?" Bobby half laughed.

That gave Dean pause. He raised her eyebrows at Bobby. Bobby held up his hands, "Don't give that look, son. It's not nothin' I haven't seen before."

This made Sam laugh a little bit. He returned to his unpacking- he knew the next task for them all was how to figure out kill the King of Hell.

Dean took a shower while Sam and Bobby went downstairs to read up on more lore about Gods, and what could possibly kill them. He expected them to be discussing it when he got downstairs, but it was quiet. Very quiet. He walked into the den to see Bobby and Sam reading. "What? Are we in a library?" Dean wondered aloud.

Sam put his fingers to his lips, "Shhhhh!" He tilted his head to the couch behind him where Sara lay sleeping. "Bobby and I figured she needed her rest."

Dean lowered his voice to a whisper "Yeah, you're probably right."

He picked her up gently and carried her up the stairs. He laid her down on the bed and covered her up. He stood there for second and looked at Sara. He remembered the dimple in her chin when she smirked, and her habit of holding her hair up with pencils. His gaze fell to her stomach. He forced himself not to think about the child she was carrying. He turned on his heel and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Dean returned downstairs. He grabbed a beer and sat down on the couch Sara had been sleeping on five minutes before. Dean looked at Bobby. "How do you feel about this new houseguest, Bobby?"

Bobby didn't look up from the text he was studying. "Hey, not my 'bloodline' that needs to continue."

Sam spoke up. "Dean, I think you need to accept the fact that you're about to be a father."

"Thank you, Sam. As always, your talent for stating the obvious is a welcome addition to the conversation." This brought a sigh from Sam. "I don't like feeling that I don't have a choice, is all. And with Cas, the man doesn't know the meaning of choice A or B. He always thinks he knows what the right things is, no matter whose life it ruins."

Bobby looked up. "And that's what your life is now, ruined?"

Dean didn't answer.

Sam tried to change the subject. "We are still striking out on the whole 'How to Kill a God'. But, we do have some progress on our friend Crowley."

Dean needed good news. "Please let it be good news."

Bobby decided to let him know what he had found. "Good news for us. Bad news for Crowley. Crowley's position as 'King of Hell' isn't all that solid. Apparently there is a lot of demon chatter on who should take over for him. So maybe if they think he can be replaced, there's a way to knock him out of the scene."

"Then that brings another problem, who replaces him?" Sam questioned.

"I don't give a damn who replaces that son of a bitch. You saw what he did to Sara. According to Cas, she is going to keep suffering." Dean bit out. "Crowley goes. So let's find out how the demons intend to take him out and do the job for him."

Sam heard the emotion in Dean's voice and looked at Bobby. Bobby raised his eyebrows and glanced back at Sam. Dean saw the exchange and knew there was more coming. "What. Just spit it out you two, I'm tired and this has been a shitty day."

Once Bobby decided to be the bearer of bad news. "Has anyone told Sara she's not leaving?"

Dean looked at the two of them; he then raised his eye upwards as if heaven would decide to help. No help was forthcoming. "That's a problem for tomorrow." Dean headed upstairs.

Maybe tomorrow would bring the answer he needed.

Sara woke up, and instantly thought 'South Dakota: Day Two'. Then she laughed for a second, "Don't mind me, just narrating my life." Sara got up and quickly dressed, well, as quickly she could with her injury. She had slept like the dead last night. Her chest felt bruised and battered, and a heaviness had settled in her stomach, but otherwise she felt fine. Well, she was hungry - she decided she needed food.

Sara opened the door to the hallway – she hadn't heard anyone moving about yet. She guessed it was still early. Too many years of trying to beat the Chicago masses to the train had trained her internal alarm clock to be up and ready to go before eight. She considered it annoying on weekends, but a lifesaver during the morning commute.

The kitchen was in the same state as last night, that is to say not much to find in way of food. However, there was some cereal and the milk looked fairly fresh. There wasn't any fruit to be found, more proof that a trip to the grocery store had to be in the future. But, of course, that brought up a whole set of questions; and that made her think she needed some fresh air. Her dad used to say 'A good walk is always the cure for a jumbled mind.' It was June in South Dakota, mornings were cool and perfect for a short stroll. Not the city she was used to, but it would do for now.

Sara stepped onto the porch and decided which way she wanted to go. She didn't want to head towards the main road, which left a stroll around the scrap yard. She headed off and was almost instantly lost in thought. There were a few facts that couldn't deny. First, there were dangerous things out there that she never knew about. Creatures, ghosts, spirits to name a few, and not only were these things scary – they could hurt you. This was something she would need time to wrap her around, so she shifted that fact off to the side to deal with later. Second major fact- there were people out there who hunted these things. It was a profession unlike any other, and Dean, Sam, and Bobby were all current practitioners. Also, this job was dangerous…very dangerous. This fact was a little easier to wrap her head around. Which didn't make any sense, but she was sorting facts not connecting dots, not yet anyway.

Sara walked a little further down the path. All around flattened rusted cars were stacked three or four high. It was akin to a car graveyard, and just as spooky as a regular graveyard. Of course, everything at the moment had her a little spooked. She heard creaking somewhere among the metal. The sound caused her to pause for a moment and look around. Maybe one of the guys was outside now. She didn't hear anything for moment, and started to move again.

Fact three- she was going to have a child. Even if the guy in a trench coat hadn't told her she '_had to have_' the child, she would have had it anyway. She didn't feel pregnant, and Lord only knew how she was going to raise to a child in Chicago, but she would do it. Which brought her squarely to fact four – Dean. Dean didn't seem very excited about the prospect of having a child, and Sara couldn't blame him, He didn't sign on for the long haul, she had never deluded herself into thinking their brief fling was more than that – a 'fling'. Therefore, today she would let him know that she didn't expect anything from him. It was scary thinking about having a child with no one to help, but she had friends; and, who knew, maybe one day she would meet someone who would love her and her child.

Sara leaned up against an old grey Ford Taurus that was sitting by itself. The car was in pristine condition, if you could discount the fact that most of the front end was a tangled mess of metal. She tried not to think about the circumstances that caused the car to get in that condition. In her mind, she tied those four facts together and tried to come up with a next step. Castiel said they couldn't 'fix' what Crowley did to her for a couple of months, that meant it was time to get back to Chicago and try to live life as normally as possible until then. The way Castiel spoke indicated that Crowley wouldn't come looking for her anytime soon. She needed to get on with her life.

There was that sound again, that metallic creak. Surely that meant someone was out here with her. She was about to call out when her body declared war on her. Nausea rose up in such great waves that her knees buckled. She gripped the edge of the car to stand upright. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach; she knew the cereal wouldn't be staying down. Sara crouched down beside the car and puked up her breakfast. Great, she thought, even my vomit is black now. What did that mean for her child? What was this….this poison doing to her insides? She didn't dwell on it for long, her stomach continued to revolt. She broke out in cold sweat and the edges of her vision began to darken.

"I'll be dammed if I'm going to faint on some dirt road." Sara tried to get up as far as could and pulled at the back door of the Taurus. It was locked. She tried the front door, all the while opening her mouth to get as much air in possible. She figured that would her stave off the blackness. The front driver door opened easily and Sara nearly puked again when she saw the blood on the driver's seat. "Guess I know how the car got this way, now. Whoever you are, I hope you survived." One thing was for sure she wasn't sitting in that; she looked for the automatic lock that would open all the doors. Once she found it she closed the driver's door and tried the back door again. It opened easily. A quick glance told her it was free of debris and, more importantly, bodily fluids. She lay down quickly, briefly reminded of the road trips she took with her dad where she would spend the night sleeping the backseat. She closed the back door a little, she wanted to make sure air could get in, and laid her head down. Finally, finally blackness took her under.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean enjoyed the days when he didn't have to bound out of bed with a gun in his hand, ready to kill a monster. Today was such a say. He also wasn't a person to lie in bed and think either, all thinking was done after a cup of coffee. He threw off the covers and looked over at Sam on the other bed. Sam was staring at the ceiling.

"Deep thoughts?" Dean asked.

"If by 'deep thoughts' you mean, am I going to make coffee- then yes. Gimme two second to put some pants on and I'll make coffee. I don't think Sara wants to run into any of us in our boxers." Sam offered.

"Good man." Dean put on his jeans and strolled over to the window. Scenery wasn't a high point at Bobby's. From his position he could see most of the scrapyard, the other side of the house faced towards the main road. He almost didn't catch at first. It was just a small movement in one of the cars. Once he saw it though, he knew exactly what was happening.

"_Goddamnsonfoabitch_!"

This curse got Sam's attention. "Dean, what's going on?"

Dean didn't answer him. He had grabbed t-shirt and was putting it on while pounding down the stairs. Sam walked over to the window, and saw the same thing Dean had witnessed. Sara was opening the rear door of a car that hadn't been crushed yet. She didn't look well. But that wasn't what got Sam's attention. It was the other person in the yard. A woman, about 50 yards from Sara…but closing fast.

Dean ran down the stairs, and got ready to run out the door. He stopped at the threshold; he didn't have a gun or any type of weapon. He ran into the kitchen and picked up a shotgun, and a flask of holy water. He continued his run out of the door. He was going to regret for the next week that he hadn't stopped to put shoes on, but it wasn't something he was thinking about as he ran flat out the road towards the grey Taurus about a quarter mile into the scrapyard. He had seen the woman from the window, he didn't know who she was – but he had guessed what she was.

He was about ten yards when the woman turned around. Dean recognized her instantly. "Bela"

Bela Talbot smiled at Dean, "Hello Dean."

Bela Talbot had once been a thorn in Sam and Dean's side. She wasn't a hunter, but a thief of occult objects. She had wreaked havoc in several of their cases over the years. Of course that had stopped when she had been dragged to hell. Turned out Bela had made a deal with a demon herself. A demon killed her parents, and she became wealthy – for ten years; after ten years her deal came due. She paid her debt liked all those who made deals paid their debt, by being dragged to hell to serve out eternity as hell's bitch. People who went to hell didn't come back – usually.

"You're dead. Aren't you supposed to be in hell?" Dean asked.

"Still as quick as ever, I see." Bela's smile disappeared, "Dean, if you remember, you'll recall that I am exceptional at making deals. Being on the rack didn't quite suit me, so I negotiated a better gig."

"And what 'gig' is that? Bitch of South Dakota? Congratulations, you're doing great."

"Funny." Bela walked a little closer to Dean. "Glad to see you haven't lost your unique sense of humor. However, you're wrong." Bela shut her eyes briefly and when she opened them again, her eyes were pure black. Demon eyes looked like slivers of obsidian inserted into eye sockets. Bela closed her eyes again and this time when she opened them they were the normal green eyes of Bela Talbot.

"A demon? You're a demon now? That's the deal you made? Become a demon, kill, destroy – all to get out of hell?" Dean couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Don't be such a girl, Dean. But you are correct. The torture wasn't my style, quite painful – but you remember that don't you? Now that Lilith and Azazel are out the picture, a new demon is in charge of the deals. A demon named Prufias."

"Prufias? Who names these jerks?" Dean asked.

"Prufias," Bela continued "thought that I showed promise and offered to hurry up the demon making process if I worked for him. Well, you know me, I love a power broker and Prufias is quite powerful. And here I am, a demon using my own vessel. I'm quite fond of it, of course."

"Well, kiss it good-bye because I'm gonna gank you myself."

"Then I'll just find another vessel and be back. And you _do_ know why I'm here don't you Dean? You must have come running out here in an effort to save your damsel in distress." Bela half turned to look behind her before meeting Dean's gaze again. "And she is about to be in distress."

Dean heard running footsteps behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know that Sam and Bobby had come to help. Dean smiled at Bela. "What were you saying again?"

Bela had been calculating in life, she was no different in death. "Very well, I know when I'm outnumbered. Better keep an eye on her, Dean, the price on her head is quite high. And no payout for dead or alive, no, no, she must be very, very dead. And the little spawn she's holding." Bela looked at Sam, "Hello, Sam, well done on the whole 'stopping the apocalypse thing." With that Bela disappeared.

"_Son of a bitch_!" Dean yelled. "No one could get a shot off? Seriously?"

"I didn't see you get a whole lot of shootin' done either, son." Bobby quipped. "And you're welcome."

Dean handed his weapon and flask of holy water over to Sam and walked to the Taurus and jerked opened the rear door. Sara was stretched across the backseat. Dean shook her gently, "Sara, get up." He didn't get a response. He shook a little more roughly. "Sara!" Still no response. He was getting worried. He checked her breathing and pulse both were regular and strong, that meant she was out cold. Dean awkwardly pulled her out of the car and started towards the house. "Sara, I got to tell you. I love those wonderful curves you have, but you aren't the lightest person around."

"I wouldn't repeat that when she's awake if I were you." Sam offered.

"Thank you, Romeo. You want to carry her?" Dean asked.

"Uh, I'm good. My hands are full." As if to prove it he raised both arms to show that each hand carried a weapon.

Dean entered the house and took Sara upstairs and laid her on the bed again. "This is becoming a habit, Sara. Next time you decided to pass out – do it nearer the house, please." With that he went to get dressed.

Dean came down twenty minutes later dressed and finally ready for that coffee. Sam had made good on his word, and made a pot. Dean made a beeline for the mugs.

Sam gave him a funny look. "Are you limping?"

"Well, here's an interesting fact. Roadways around a scrapyard are full of broken headlights, taillights and other sharp debris. And when you run down those roads without shoes on, you tend have feet that looks a little bit like hamburger." Dean took his first sip, "That is the stuff."

"Are you OK? Do you need me to have a look?" Sam had been patching up his brother for years and vice versa.

"No, thanks, keep your fetishes off my feet."

"Very funny, Dean."

Bobby walked in, "Bela's back? That can't be good."

Dean gave a short laugh, "Not only is not good, but she's a big time demon now and she's hot and heavy after us. She always did have a thing for me."

"Thinking she's working for Crowley?" Sam asked.

"No, she said she was working for some demon name Prufias." Dean saw the look Sam gave him, "I know, I know – I guess picking out names isn't high on their list in hell. Anyway, she said her boss wants Sara dead. She was here to do the deed."

"Which means she's on the anti-Crowley side." Bobby rubbed his beard, a sure sign he was thinking.

Sam noticed, "What's on your mind Bobby?"

"It means Bela must know how to take out Crowley." Bobby looked at Dean.

Dean slammed his coffee cup on the table. "I have _had _it with the 'let's work with demons' ideas." He walked past Bobby into the den, and sat in the chair across from Bobby's empty desk.

Bobby walked over and sat at the desk across from Dean. "How 'bout you hear what I was going to say before you start PMSing? Think that would be OK?" Dean just looked at Bobby and gave a small nod. Bobby continued, "I was thinkin' that maybe we should try to capture her. She's got some info we need. And, trust me, I ain't thinking about working with Bela. Wouldn't've been something I would have suggested when she was alive, much less dead and working for some boss in hell."

"And how would you suggest we do that?" Dean held up his hand, "You know what? Spare me. I'm out of patience for any more bright ideas this morning. The Impala was making a ticking noise on the way home, I'm going to go pop th-" He stopped when he heard a dull thud come from upstairs. "I think Sara's awake. I need to go talk to her. I guess it's up to me to tell her that she's a prisoner. Joy."

Dean started to walk toward the stairs, Bobby called out to him. "I have a friend coming by later. A nurse, I want to look at Sara's injuries and make sure she and the baby are OK. Let Sara know she'll be here in an hour, OK?"

"A nurse, Bobby? How are you going to explain those injuries?" This from Sam who was still in the kitchen- not even a visit from a demon was keeping him from finishing his coffee.

"Don't worry, she's someone we can trust. I handled a poltergeist for her a few years back. She helps me out from time to time." With that Bobby decided it was as good a time as any to pick back up on the research.

Dean continued up the stairs, "I'll tell her." He paused on the third stair, "Thanks, Bobby." He didn't wait for acknowledgment of his thanks; he knew Bobby had heard him.

Sara woke up in her bed. She remembered being outside, but she didn't remember getting back to the house. She still wasn't feeling well, in fact, she just wanted to stay in bed, but she needed the bathroom and at least a drink of water. She sat up slowly, the nausea roiled but it was much less than before and with her stomach empty there wasn't anything to throw up. She put her feet on the floor and grabbed the end rail of the bed and pulled herself up. She made a quick trip to bathroom, and was on her way back when she saw Dean reach the top landing.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Like I got suckered punched by a boxer, thank you very much." She swayed a little on her feet.

"Whoa!" Dean steadied her. "Here, let's get you back to bed."

Dean helped her to the bed. Sara lay down and immediately turned over on her side. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. "Listen, I need to tell you something, and you're not going to like it." Sara didn't say anything, so Dean continued. "You have to stay inside." Sara rolled over to look at Dean. She gave him a look that he had seen before from her; it was the 'you must have lost your mind' look and, in most circumstances, quite effective. "Yeah, I know. But you see, while you were passed out today, a demon was tracking you. And it wasn't selling Avon."

"Dean, I have to get back to Chicago. I have a job, a life, friends. Why are you shaking your head?" A trace of panic was stating to creep in her voice.

"I'm sorry, all of that is gone. You can't go back." Dean looked at the wall, he didn't want to look in her eyes, he knew what he would see there. He had seen that look before on lots of other people. It was a look of shock, and he couldn't blame her. Her life was forever changed.

"What am I supposed to do? Bobby can't put me up forever."

"You can stay here as long as you need to, until we can put something else together."

Sara sat up – she didn't know if her stomach was feeling better or she was just getting used to feeling like shit. "Dean, I have to go back to my job. Listen, I was thinking thi-

"No, Sara, you don't un-"

"_Listen_! Listen….I was thinking this morning and I get it, I get it OK? You didn't sign up for this. That's OK. You don't have to do anything; I can raise this child on my own. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for anything."

Dean suddenly stood up and turned to face Sara, she could see that he was struggling – with what she didn't know. He was trying to keep his voice calm. "Sara, you don't understand. I know I keep saying that but it's true. Today while you were passed out in that car out there a demon showed up to kill you. Sara – to _kill_ you. And she could have done it like that." He snapped his fingers together. "You can't go home, you can't leave, you can't even go outside." He stepped closer and put her face between his hands – she was shocked to know that his touch still had the same effect. "We will figure this out, I promise, but for now you have to swear to me that you will stay inside."

"Dean, I-"

"_Swear, Sara_! Swear to me. Keeping people safe is kind of what I do, and I'm damn good at it, but you cannot make it harder. So, swear to me."

Sara saw tears in eyes and it made her heart skip a beat. She had been so absorbed in her thinking about what she was going to do, that she hasn't thought what this was doing to him. She'd never felt so selfish. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and softly said, "I swear, Dean."

Dean sighed and released her face from his grasp. He stood up and gave a half-smile, "Besides locked in the house with three men, some might say you're pretty lucky."

Sara tried to laugh at that, but failed. "Dean, I meant what I said. You don't have to do anything; I'm not going to trap you into anything."

Dean rubbed his face; this whole conversation seemed to make him tired. "I heard you the first time, Sara. You don't want my help, you don't need me. Guess you don't think I'm father material." With that he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Sara lay back down again, and began to drift off the sleep. Her last thought before she let sleep take her was the look on Dean's face when he'd left the room. She thought he would be happy to hear that she was letting him out of his responsibility, so why did he look like she had sucker punched him?


	11. Chapter 11

Dean bounded down the stairs and immediately headed towards the door.

"Hey, Dean!"

Bobby's call stopped Dean in his tracks. "What?"

"Did you remember to tell Sara about the nurse?"

"No." With that Dean slammed out the door.

Bobby and Sam exchanged looks. "What do ya think that was all about?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know but I guess I'll try to find out." Sam closed his laptop and set out to have a talk with Sara.

Sara heard a knock at the door. She was sitting on the edge of the bed looking out the window. Beside her was grocery list. She had tried to do something normal, something that wouldn't make her feel like she had just landed in some alternate universe. She'd failed. The list was sitting beside her on the bed, forgotten, when she called to the knocker "Come in."

She had expected Bobby, only because he was the only other person to come up to the room. She was surprised to see Sam standing in the doorway. "Oh! Sam. Hi." She mentioned to the chair beside the bed, "Want to come in?"

"Hey, Sara." Sam came all the way in and sat down. He sighed, he seemed uncomfortable. "I know that you and I haven't talked very much."

"If I had known you were Dean's brother when you were in Chicago, I would have invited you to come and eat with us, at the very least. I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's OK. To tell the truth I was glad that Dean was preoccupied, I kind of needed the space."

"Preoccupied." Sara smirked, showing the dimple the Dean had talked about. It made Sam smile inwardly. "Yes, he certainly was. Well, glad I could keep him busy for you." The sarcasm in her tone wasn't lost on Sam.

"That's not the way I meant it."

"Didn't you?" She looked straight at Sam. Her gaze was direct and piercing. "Tell the truth, Sam, you didn't ever expect to see me again, did you?" She didn't wait for an answer, "Of course you didn't. It does strike a blow to one's ego to be thought of in such a manner."

"Um…yeah."

Sara gave a half smile, "Ah, Sam, don't mind me. I don't have a politeness filter. I tend to say what's on my mind. Call a spade a spade sort of thing."

"Good to know." Sam rearranged his lanky frame in the chair and tried again, "Sara….in this life…" He trailed off, rethought his strategy and tried again, "Doing what Sam and I do, well, it doesn't allow for a lot of long term relationships." He stopped; he seemed to make up his mind about something before speaking again. "Since you're truthful with me let me return the favor. The people we have relationships with end up dead."

Sara visibly blanched. She opened her mouth to response, found she had none and closed it again. "I don't have response to that, Sam. In fact, I don't have response to anything that's happening to me."

"I know. Trust me, I really do know. I wish I could make it easier for you. I can't." He reached over to touch Sara's hand. "I need you to accept the things that we are telling you. We aren't doing it for fun; we're doing it to keep you safe."

Sara brushed off his hand and stood up. She wanted to pace, but her injury made that impossible. She settled for standing beside the bed and holding the foot rail for support. "Sam, two days ago I was a communications analyst for a management consulting firm. Now, I'm a pregnant refugee in some godforsaken place, being visited by demons and angels and other creatures that only existed in Sunday sermons before now. I know you want me to 'accept' things, and for the love of all that is holy I'm trying. I swear I'm trying." She was trying to keep the tears back. Not because she minded crying, but because her recent spate of tearful conversations was wearing thin on her. She was trying to hold it together, and about two seconds from failing.

Sam saw she was on the verge and realized he was going about this in the wrong way. "Sara sit down." He waited until she had complied. "A communications analyst, huh? Sounds exciting."

Sara eyes narrowed. "Your condescension is noted, thank you. Look, I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, but I was happy. I get it, the idea of putting together a white paper on _'Communications Practices for Mid-management in Organizations of over 10,000 employees with a concentration in Media'_ may not sound like your idea of riveting work, and, truth is, it's not. But it's what I did, and I wasn't half bad at it. And it was normal. The kind of work didn't cause people you had relationships with to end up dead."

"Fair enough."

Sara had had enough of trying to hold it together; she couldn't hold back the tears. "I'm sorry. I'm not such a blubbering mess. I think the hormones have kicked in. That, or being sliced in the chest has made a bit more weepy than usual."

"Hey, no, no, it's OK." Sam moved to bed and took Sara into his arms. This small act of kindness opened the floodgates. Sara began to sob. In between hysterics she railed against the injustice of what had happened to her, how much she was going to miss her life in Chicago, how scared she was, and her paralyzing fear of what came next. Sam didn't say anything, he just handed her tissues and made soothing noises. She wasn't a dainty crier; her sobbing brought Bobby up the stairs. He poked his head in the door and gave Sam a questioning look. Sam looked over the red-head's curls and nodded that everything was OK. Bobby retreated back downstairs.

After about fifteen minutes, Sara seemed cried out. "I'm sorry, Sam. I…I'm…..I'm a fucking mess, that's what."

Sam laughed. "Yes, yes you are. But you know what?" Sara met his eyes, "You're entitled."

"Am I really supposed to stay here?"

"'Friad so. Sorry we can't offer better accommodations, but this is the safest place we know of."

Sara moved out of Sam's embrace. When she seemed more composed, Sam shifted back to the chair. "What happens when the baby comes?"

Sam decided that honesty was the best policy with Sara. "I don't know."

"Awesome."

"But we'll figure it out. We won't rest until we do."

"I tried to tell Dean that he didn't have to worry. I'm not trying to trap him into being a father. Really. He doesn't have to do anything. I don't expect anything from him. Please make sure he knows that."

The pieces of Dean's bad mood feel into place for Sam. He raised his eyebrows at Sara. "You told him that?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Do me a favor – don't say that to him anymore."

Women with red hair were known for their short temper. Sara's temper was shorter than most right now. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what did I say now?"

Sam knew he had to explain in a way that would make sense, "Look, in this life – a hunter's life – there isn't much you can rely on. Like I said, you don't form relationships with outsiders. Either because it puts them in danger or because you know that in two weeks you're moving on the next town, the next case, and they aren't someone you'll ever see again. But there is one thing that trumps everything – family. Like it or not, you're family now. More importantly, that child you're carrying is Dean's son. He will do everything he can to make sure that you and that child are safe….or die trying. To tell him that he doesn't have to be a part of your life or his son's life is like telling him…" Sam trailed off; he was at a loss for words to describe what her words had done to Dean. "Well, it's like telling him that he isn't good enough to be a part of his own child's life."

Sara had to protest. "He doesn't even want me to have this baby!"

"He wants you to have options. Because trust me, once you set on this path of having and raising this child, you will have no more options." Sam went silent. He left that statement in the air, waiting to see how Sara would react.

"That's not what I meant when I told him that." Sara said softly.

"I know." A movement outside caught Sam's attention, a car was pulling up to the house. It reminded him of why he had come upstairs in the first place. "Hey, Sara, Bobby has a friend who's a nurse. She's coming by to have a look at you. Bobby wants to make sure everything is OK."

"What do I tell her about what happened to me?" Sara was new to the life of lies and cover stories.

Sam stood up and prepared to leave. He smiled down at Sara, "The truth, or as much of it as you want to tell. Don't worry; she knows all about what Bobby really does." Sam walked to the door.

"Thanks, Sam."

Sam smiled again at the woman who was carrying his nephew. "You're welcome."

Dean stalked out to where the Impala sat. He popped the hood with every intention to see what was making a faint ticking noise. He looked at the engine for about ten minutes without seeing it before he realized it was useless. It was time to the one thing he didn't want to do. He closed the hood and walked out the where the scrapyard met the tree line behind it. He bowed his head and prayed the only way Dean Winchester knew how to pray. "Cas, if you can hear me, I want your ass down here now. Pronto." It wasn't a request. Dean lifted his head and opened his eyes. He started to look around. He was about two second from being seriously pissed off when he heard a voice behind him.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean turned around to see the angel (excuse me, God) that had once pulled him from hell. "Hello, Cas. I take it this is all your doing."

Cas was easily lost in conversations with humans, but this time he knew exactly what Dean was referring to. "You mean Sara."

"Yeah, I mean Sara." Dean pointed a finger straight at Cas. "I have seen you do some serious misguided meddling before, and let's not forget your current state as a walking hotel for monster souls – but if you thought that this situation was going to distract me you are dead wrong. So fix it. Now."

"Fix it?" Now Castiel was lost.

"Sara can't have this child. You, more than anyone, know what kind of life she is going to have – much less the child-"

Cas tilted his head, he was still lost. "'The' child? Don't you mean your child?"

"Maybe, but I'm sure you had a hand in this. It's the kind of douchy move you'd pull."

This comment caused Cas to raise his eyebrows. "Dean let me assure you I had no part in the conception of this child." Dean opened his mouth to interrupt him, Cas held up a hand to ward him off. "But I think I get your meaning. And let me assure I had no idea that you were going to conceive a child until I heard that a woman was pregnant with your bloodline. As you can imagine, there are far too many babies conceived for heaven to keep an eye on every one."

"That's a lie." Dean wanted to punch Cas so bad he could taste it. But it wouldn't hurt Cas, and would in all probability cause Dean to break his hand so instead he bunched his hands into fists. "Bobby said you told him about the Winchester line continuing. This is you and probably one of your dick-bags of a cupid interfering with my life. I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. Let me repeat myself - fix it…now."

"There is nothing to fix, Dean. You are correct that I told Bobby about the Winchester line continuing. That has been foretold before you were born, but I had no knowledge of when or who. I am only trying to protect what has already been done."

"Somehow I don't believe you."

"Believe me or not. I did not arrange for you to have a son at this moment. The events that led up to this were put into motion long before we even met."

"And you think she is supposed to be the one that keeps the Winchester line continuing. Did you know that a demon paid her visit this morning? What would have happened if I hadn't managed to get rid of Bela?"

Cas looked around the scrapyard. "Where are the angels that I stationed here?"

"Good question. I can tell you where they aren't. Here."

This seemed to irritate Castiel. "I will deal with this disobedience. In the meantime, Dean, accept that you are going to be a father. You once told me you knew something about absent fathers; may I make the suggestion that you not be one?"

That was too much. It was crossing the line. Dean didn't care about the consequences; he lunged for Cas with every intention of trying to squeeze the life out of him. He never touched him. Castiel was gone.

"Thank you very much, asshole!" Dean yelled at empty space.

_Again, thanks for all the kind reviews and comments. I've decided that if I get five reviews tonight I will post Chapter Twelve, too. I know, I know its blackmail and not at all kosher but writers need love too, amiright?_


	12. Chapter 12

A routine of sorts settled on the house after that. A nurse named Rita checked on Sara regularly. She removed her stitches, opting instead for butterfly sutures. She needlessly confirmed Sara's pregnancy, made sure she had prenatal vitamins, and instructed the men on how to make sure Sara got the rest and nutrition she needed.

Sara and Bobby slowly filled out Bobby's pantry. Sara made a list of things she needed and Bobby dutifully filled it. Sara tried to give him her ATM card once, but he refused it. She thought that was odd, until she noticed a story on the computer. She found an item out of Chicago that mentioned a fire in the Winthrop building. It had taken out six units, one of them hers. Sam explained to her that they had known, but were waiting for the right time to tell her. Dean and Sam figured that Crowley or demons had done it. Investigators had determined it to be an electrical fire. Sam explained that for now, she was off the grid. It would be better if she remained that way for now. He even asked her not to contact anyone on her cell phone, reminding her of the danger she would put them in, even with a phone call. Sara had never felt so lost or turned upside down.

She and Dean avoided each other for the most part. He asked if she was feeling OK every time he saw her, but other than that he didn't try to engage her in conversation. Sara had tried to talk with him when he had come back inside that day, but he had bushed her off and she hadn't tried again.

Sam did her best to try stave off any boredom that set in. He would tell her stories of their life as hunters, patiently answering Sara's prying questions for hours. Sam seemed to know that there was a rift between her and Dean, he was attempting to bridge it- unsuccessfully.

Sam and Dean kept up their punishing hunting schedule. Dean never told her where or when, Sam did that for her. Dean would say goodbye, admonish her to be careful and then be gone. Sam would hug her gently, try to convince her that all would be well and take off after his brother. Then she would be alone with Bobby. Bobby was a busy man: he ran the scrapyard, looked after cover stories for several hunters (this activity consisted of having six phone lines each labeled with a government agency; if one of the phones would ring, Bobby would pick up as an operative of that agency. It was disconcerting to hear "Rich Ison, CDC, how can I help you?" while sitting in a farmhouse in South Dakota) plus the almost constant research he seemed to be doing. Nevertheless, Bobby would always have time for her. He seemed to step into the role of protector quite easily. He would remember to ask if she had eaten, how she was feeling, and if she needed anything. Sara would often ask what he was studying and he always told her the truth, sometimes he would pass her a text and ask her to look up with something. Bobby always tried to make sure she was comfortable. She once remarked how she wished she had a table beside the bed to set stuff on, and the next day she answered a knock at her bedroom door to see Bobby there with a table that fit perfectly beside the headboard. When she was too sick to leave her room, Bobby would come up and play cards with her. He even brought up another chair and a table to sit beside the window with the other chair. His thoughts of kindness made Sara fall in love with him quickly – she saw him as the father she desperately missed.

However, most of Sara's time was spent up in her room. The demon poisoning was working its mojo. She was sick, very sick. Very little food seemed to stay down, and her stomach felt heavier and heavier every day – as if a lead weight were settling in it. Sara only told Rita how sick she was, after she swore her to secrecy. Bobby, Sam and Dean had enough on their plates - she didn't want to add to it. Besides, there was little they could do.

Three months passed. Sara was entering her fourth month of pregnancy and she was facing another morning of feeling like she was stabbed in the stomach, nausea, and, more unsettling, hallucinations.

The hallucinations were new and frightening. Sara hadn't told anyone about them. How do you describe something that didn't exist? Every hallucination started out the same. She would hear a howl in the distance, as if someone had left a dog out overnight, her vision would being to darken, then she would hear growls outside her bedroom door. She was sure a large ferocious dog was outside her room. She wanted to scream for someone to help her, but fright paralyzed her.

Then her door would swing open and enormous black dog creature stalked in, standing by her bed. She would have called the creature a dog, but it was much too terrifying for that. It stood at least five feet tall with black fur; there were no ears – only gaping holes where the ears should have been. Long canines extended from its mouth, so sharp that the teeth cut its own lower lip. As it stood over her, she could smell the rancid breath and watch it drip drool and blood. As suddenly as the creature appeared, it disappeared. Sara could have complained that it kept her from sleep, but she didn't sleep much anyway. Every time she closed her eyes, images of Crowley and other demons haunted her dreams.

All of this took its toll on her. For the first few weeks she felt as well as she could expect, but once the nightmares and hallucinations started, she turned jumpy and apprehensive. Sam asked if she was OK, and she responded that she was 'as well as could be expected'; Bobby watched her with apprehensive eyes and always told her to 'eat something'; Dean didn't say anything. The silence hurt the worst. She knew there was nothing he could do, but it hurt to know that Dean didn't even seem to care.

She did have someone to rely on though, and it came quite unexpectedly. It happened after she had been at Bobby's about five weeks. Her nightmares had started and long nights awake stretched before her. She awoke one night to the feeling that someone was in the room. Sara tried to get her eyes to focus, and when she did she saw Castiel sitting in one of the chairs by the window. He hadn't paid her a visit since her first day at Bobby's and she was concerned that he was suddenly sitting here, in the middle of the night, in her room.

"What are you doing here?" Sara asked.

"I only came to check on you." He turned to look out the window, "I do it from time to time. I just want to make sure…," he turned his eyes back to her, "I need to make sure you aren't dead yet."

"Very comforting." Sara responded dryly.

Castiel stood, "I'll go."

"No!" Sara said a hastily. "I mean….no, you don't have to go, you can stay. If you want."

"Very well." Castiel returned to the chair, "How are you feeling?"

"Ah, well. Let's see – I'm sick all the time, I try to eat, but God only knows how much actually stays down, my stomach and arms look like someone took a black marker to me. I mean look at this!" She stuck out her arms to show that the veins had started to darken, filling with the black liquid that she had been stuck with since Crowley's visit.

"The demon essence is spreading, I imagine that is why you feel…sick all the time."

"You think?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at her, "You sarcasm is noted."

Sara raised her hands in a suggestion of surrender, "Sorry." She sighed, "Let's not forget the nightmares." Sara sat up and leaned up against head rail. She rubbed at her head, it ached.

"Hallucinations?" Castiel inquired.

Sara couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes."

"How is the child?" Castiel, always on task.

"The nurse says he's fine." She started to get choked up, "I just want him to be OK."

"He will be. It's almost time for the cleansing ritual."

Sara leaned her head back against the rail and sighed. "How long do I have to stay here?"

Castiel looked at her and then back down. "I don't know. I would discuss that with Dean."

"Yeah, sure. I'll do that."

"I take it Dean is not being communicative." Castiel didn't wait for an answer; he already knew what her answer would be. "I cannot change Dean, but please, trust me that what we are doing is for your safety and for your child's safety."

Sara decided that since she was up, she might as well get a drink of water. She threw off the covers and stood up. Looking down at Castiel she said, "I'm trying to remember that. However, I'm too busy being sick to even try to feel like a mother." She started to bathroom, but never got more than one step. The sharp pains that had been plaguing her all month struck her full force. She doubled over close to where Castiel was sitting. On instinct, she grabbed one of his hands and squeezed.

Castiel gave her a look of concern. "Are you well?"

"Yeah, fine," she bit out. "Don't mind me, just going all Rosemary's baby here."

"Does squeezing my hand help?"

"Shut up." The last thing Sara wanted to do when she was in pain was answer more questions. Cas didn't move while she waiting for the pain the pass. Once it did she moved back to the bed, the plan for a drink of water forgotten. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Sara smirked at him. "For letting me squeeze your hand, of course."

"I am glad you enjoyed it, but I am confused as to why it helped."

"It doesn't help the pain, it just helps to have someone here." Another sigh, "I feel invisible in this house."

"You're not invisible. I see you just fine." Castiel had a case of 'being too literal'.

"Nevermind." Sara lay back down. "I don't suppose you can do anything about the pain, the hallucinations, the nightmares? Because I have to tell you, there are days I would rather be run over by a truck then have to deal with all this."

"I would bring you back if that happened. Being hit by a truck, I mean."

Sara had to roll her eyes at this statement. "Of course you would."

"But to answer your question, I cannot help you until the cleansing ritual." Castiel stood up, it was time to leave. "But I will check in on you, if you would like."

Sara nodded, sleep was edging in on her. She couldn't keep it at bay, no matter how terrifying the impending nightmares are. She would rather Dean were here, but he seemed to barely notice what was going on with her.

Dean couldn't Sara off of his mind. Despite her admonition that he 'didn't have to do anything' he was doing all he could to ensure the safety of her and the….his child. A child, a son - he can't even think about that right now. He and Sam had been all over the country looking for demons that might have to way to Crowley, he was determined to see that bastard burn once and for all. He did it to keep his mind off of Sara. He could see she was suffering, she tried to hide it from them all – but she was bad at it. He knew what it was like to want to lick your wounds in private, so he made sure everyone gave her plenty of room. Besides, she didn't need him right? However, that didn't stop him from pestering everyone in the house for information on her.

He'd even cornered Rita as she was leaving one day and tried to pump her for information. She had laughed at him and asked, "Why don't you ask Sara?"

"I'm asking you. Just tell me how she is."

"I can't tell you. Sara relies on me for medical advice. That's a relationship of trust, I need to make sure she knows she can tell me anything she wants to." Rita turned to continue to walk towards the car.

"C'mon." Dean ran after her and grabbed her arm. "Look, you don't have to give me chapter and verse, I just need to know she's OK."

Rita had short black hair that framed her face, it gave her hard look. Coupled with her glare at Dean, she looked downright formidable. "One, get your hand off of me, son." Dean complied quickly. "Two, I think anyone with two eyes can see how she is. She looks like she just rose from the grave. But she's coping, she's a fighter. And three," Rita narrowed her eyes, "If you really want to know how she is, why don't you stick around and find out?" With that Rita stalked off to her car.

Dean let her go. He'd walked into the house and slammed the door so hard that Sam and Bobby had looked up at him. "You break it, you bought it." Bobby told him.

"Thanks, I'll remember that." Dean walked into the den. "And, for the record, your nurse or friend or whatever she is – she's a real peach."

Bobby set down his book and laughed. "I don't know what happened, but Rita ain't the type to take shit off of no one. Even you, hot shot."

"It's not like I was asking hard questions, I'm just trying to see how Sara is doing."

Sam glanced at Dean from his computer screen, "What did she say?"

"Nothing. Not a damn thing." Dean ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I can see she's not doing well, but damn…" He let the sentence hang in the air.

Rita was right, Dean was gone a lot. Maybe he was running, but that didn't stop him for killing every demon along the way. He was frustrated as hell. Frustrated at the situation with Sara, frustrated that Cas was still walking around full of purgatory souls, and frustrated that Crowley hadn't been ripped to shreds yet. When he did manage to make it back to Bobby's, he would quietly pump Bobby for as much information on Sara as possible.

After three months, he'd had about enough – and that's when he discovered that Cas was visiting Sara.

It happened by accident. Dean was doing his usual bedtime routine of sips of whiskey while sitting on the bed. He was trying to clear his head – Jim Beam did a good job of that. Tonight, he was too keyed up for even whiskey to help. They had returned from tracking down a high level demon. He hadn't wanted to talk, but Dean had special skills in that area. After two hours, the demon was begging to be sent back to hell. Dean granted him his wish, after he had gotten some information on Bela. In two weeks, Bela was going to be back at the Devil's Gate. Dean and Sam were going to track the bitch down. In the end, he didn't know if it was the whiskey or the months of tension, but one thing became very clear to him while he was sitting in the dark. He needed to talk to Sara.

He still had his jeans on; he grabbed a t-shirt from his bag and went down the hall to talk to Sara. He raised his hand to knock when he heard a moan. Dean knew the difference between a moan of pleasure and one of pain and this moan clearly had pain written all over it. He abandoned his plan to knock and threw open the door. He could imagine a lot of the things he would find on the other side of that door – except the one he actually did see.


End file.
